Collarspace.com

bootdegrade

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Friends:
littlegigiliannababeliDastan
LadyHelleonor
If you've come this far, why not go farther? Send me a message. I promise to be as nice as I can be. If I'm at all what you want, or if you just want to be friends, I'd love to hear from you.

I am very submissive, and looking for someone creative, witty, and adventurous (and a little bit cruel). I want to explore depths of humiliation; I love bondage, pain is okay. I have a fetish for boots, leather, and humiliation.

Willing to chat with anyone; I don't judge what you like. I just may not like it myself.

Important: I am married. I am not looking to or interested in leaving my wife. She is aware that I am posting here and is okay with what I am doing.

I am looking for friends or pen pals as well as potential real-life meeting.

I'd love to hear from You. Can't wait to start talking.

I have no intention or desire to join another site. I don't care if it's free. If you want me to join some other site, even a free one, you might as well move on.

Oh, and no fakirs. (No, that isn't a spelling error) I'm a sub with a brain. I'm tired of pretending I'm not. I like real conversations about intelligent topics. I'll play the quiet submissive if/when we actually play, but I'd rather be able to have a real conversation, if you don't mind. I have to share this... According to the wonderful LadyHelleonor, I am "officially the Most Intelligent and Decent Submissive/Slave on Collarme.com and I stand by my words."

That is too sweet and flattering not to include. Note: For the case of copyright, this constitutes a fixed medium. I also do NOT give approval to be used for research.
10/9/2012 6:10:30 AM

Just a quick thing...

 

If you want to advertise that you are in to financial domination... that is, if you want to claim that you are using bdsm in a context where others will give you money... please, PLEASE spell the word correctly.

 

Financial. F-I-N-A-N-C-I-A-L.

 

Not finitial. Not finantial.

 

Thank you.

9/30/2012 5:10:59 PM

I feel I need a disclaimer here. I understand that many women play video games. In fact, it's getting awfully close to 50/50. Many of the women who play video games are attractive as hell. While there are some female gamers that are not, there are also male gamers that are not attractive; it's one of those things that happens with any given group. That said, I find it hard to believe that this comes from a woman:

 

"Hello boys and girls, my name is Princess Lindsay, I'm a financial Somme, don't like it, don't message me! I'm a huge gamer so I request usually Xbox live points. But we.can work.out.other things as well. Im into pretty much anything. Except kids, scat, and anything illegal"

 

Financial Domme who wants Xbox live points? The pictures are of a very attractive young woman, (which does not preclude her from liking video games) but it doesn't look like she's the type; she seems more the vapid party girl type who would look down on video games because she hadn't given them the chance to see how much fun they can be.

 

I'm at a loss for words.

 

 

***I would like to thank Degrademyholes for pointing out the sexist content this post originally had (which I did not intend). I appreciate your message, and I'm glad there was a chance to fix things, because you are absolutely correct.***

8/21/2012 7:58:33 AM

I have gotten so sick of reading some of these profiles that are written by clearly non-native English speakers, especially when they are pretending to be natives. So much so that I've decided to help.

 

Honestly, if you want, I will give you help with your grammar, your translation, and the tone of your profile. All you have to do is ask.

 

Offer stands for anyone, really. Just drop me a line.

4/18/2012 8:01:44 PM

Quick request for those who are advertising their awesome dominant power:

 

If your time is so precious, could you stop TELLING me it's precious so many times? I mean, say it once if you want, sure. No problem there. But the third time you tell me that your time is precious, all I can think is that it can't be THAT precious. Not if you wasted it saying the same thing over and over again.

 

Am I just a cynic?

3/30/2012 11:46:51 AM

Been a while since I've done this, but this profile demanded it.

 

First, the text in full:

I AM A WILD DOMINANT CHICK LOOKING FOR A LOYAL AND OBEDIENT SUB,iF U ARE A SUB THAT IS LOYAL AND FAITHFUL AND HONEST...LETS YOUR DOM CONTROL YOU ,,A SUB THAT KNOWS HOW TO PLEASE MY EMOTIONS ..THEN U ARE FOR ME..IF YOU ARE NOT A SUB THAT OBEYS THEN U NOT FOR ME...I WANT SOMEONE WHO IS READY TO LET ME SEND HIM MESSAGES AND WORK FOR ME IN ALL THAT WILL SATISFY ME... IF YOU DON"T MEET THIS REQUIREMENTS THEN DO NOT CONTACT ME.FOR I WILL BE SURE YOU ARE LOYAL AND HUMBLE AND OBEDIENT ENOUGH FOR MY URGES BEFORE I START UP A CONVERSATION WITH YOU..NOTE I A A WILD DOMINANT THAT GIVES YOU A TEST BEFORE WE START UP A CONVERSATION

 

Now, aside from the fact that the picture didn't seem to match this particular 'style' of writing, doesn't it seem like this is just like all those other messages, thrown into a blender and randomly taken out and put in all caps?

 

If you count, and exclude ellipses, there is exactly one comma and one period in this whole monstrosity. Oh, and there's also only one lower case letter. It comes (immediately) after the comma, in a place where the comma SHOULD have been a period. So in other words, the only lower case letter appears one of the only places where one SHOULD NOT have been.

 

Now, what's important to this 'person'? Well, loyal appears a lot. So does obedient (or obey). In fact, that appears to a level that almost seems pathological paranoia.

 

"If you are not a sub that obeys then you are not for me" Well, duh. If you're not someone who obeys, are you a sub at all? Debatable.

 

What I'm really curious about is how 'she' intends to be sure that people who contact her are 'obedient enough' for her urges BEFORE starting a conversation. What do you think? Telepathy? Clairvoyance? Precognition?

 

If she could do any of those things... shouldn't she be able to write a normal sentence?

12/17/2011 3:28:40 PM

I want someone to write "I'm new to the scene, but not to this site."

The number of times people include "new to the site but not the scene" or some variation is just staggering. And, thus far, has been consistent with the financial dommes (Still don't get it; feel free to explain if you want to), and the people who have NO idea how the scene works.

 

It's just such a "long time listener, first time caller" kind of thing. So tacky.

12/4/2011 8:31:19 PM

Come on now people...

 

"Well am Madam Lord single here looking for slave to own as my slave and be my property for life am single here and maybe we can be in a good relationship together"

 

At least TRY. Even a little?

11/12/2011 6:41:58 PM

For all those people who 'make' a profile and then promise to update it soon:

Why don't you just wait to make the profile until you're ready to fill it out? Are 'clever' nicknames really at such a premium that you have to reserve one???

11/10/2011 9:53:08 AM

I've noticed that I do a lot of making fun of female profiles... wait, sorry. I meant 'female' profiles. Anyway, I tend to give the guys a pass, usually because I don't bother looking at most of them. But I saw one today that just demanded my attention. And not because he was called Usuck4me or something like that. No, what drew my attention was the text:

 

"Looking for someone to suck me on demand. Most be willing to stay on your knees to serve me. May also serve as a bottom depending on your ass. Sissy trained a most. Most be discreet. I can host on the weekends only. During the week you would need to host."

 

First, I'm annoyed that he can't tell the difference between most and must. Most means the maximum possible amount. Must means required to do so. They don't really have anything in common. Once I could chalk up to a typo, but twice????

Secondly, this right here is what's wrong with bdsm in my opinion. Too many people see the idea of power exchange, the loving, careful, consensual play and exploration of deep fantasies, and all they get out of it is a big neon sign that says "hey, free blow jobs!"

As if that's all being dominant takes/means. Never mind the sub's pleasure (and there should be pleasure for all concerned... it's sex, it's supposed to be FUN). Never mind bondage, never mind other play of any kind. All that matters is that as a dominant, he gets free blow jobs.

Way too many people miss the point of bdsm. Way too many people claim to be dominant (or 'dominates') without having any understanding of what that means. The worst part of this is that people who don't know what they're doing get caught up in the idiotic rhetoric of things likes "Slaves don't get limits" or "it's never about your pleasure, only mine" or "Give me money because I don't like my job and I've decided to be dominant this week."

There was a time when bdsm was SAFE. Not just safe in the sense of safe, sane, and consensual, but safe in the sense of honest.

Can we be honest just for a second here? In the 'bedroom,' during a scene, you can go ahead and claim that I don't get limits, or that you don't care about my pleasure, or my well being, or whatever. But outside of those scenes, I need to know that you DO. That you understand that we are both adults and playing a FANTASY of things that we enjoy. That we BOTH get off on the idea.

Is that really so much to ask?

10/20/2011 4:24:40 PM

Seriously people? If someone wants to get something out of a relationship then they aren't submissive?

I know we all love the fantasy of all this, but let's keep in mind that at the end of the day, we are consenting adults. We are human beings who are engaging in this behavior because we WANT to. Because we LIKE it. Because it turns us on.

Does it turn a submissive on to think about never having a say in anything, never getting release, being submitted to torture after torture with no hope of reprieve and no care for what they get out of it? I'm sure there are plenty of people who masturbated thinking of something like that. It's a great FANTASY. But it isn't reality.

This is a give and take. That's why it's called power EXCHANGE. The submissive has to get something out of it. Otherwise, it's abuse. It's rape. And while that may ALSO be fun to pretend, it's just for pretend.

Wanting to enjoy yourself does not make you less submissive. Caring about someone's humanity and well being does not make you less dominant.

They just make you sane.

10/19/2011 2:01:43 PM

I think hypnosis is fantastic. Fun, sexy, interesting, and much safer than people think.

Maybe that's just because I don't believe it's real. I think that any kind of hypnosis requires the person being hypnotized to be more than just complacent, but actively involved. It's a shared deception between the two people. For those who use hypnosis to help them with real life issues, it's a feather like the one Dumbo had; it doesn't really do anything, but as long as you BELIEVE it does, then it'll work.

Sexually speaking, I think hypnosis is a very hot idea. The idea of someone having complete control over your very thoughts is just amazing. And it's insidious how it can work. You can convince yourself that you're just playing along, when actually, you're going deeper and deeper. Or you can pretend that's what's going on. The place you stop pretending is entirely up to you.

When 'under,' you can choose to be that much more submissive; it's like you've been given permission to give up total control, to not have to think for yourself. You pretend that you can't refuse your master/mistress/etc, and in so doing, you put a lot of power in their hands. All of it, really.

But it's still a game, and still a fantasy. You can be completely safe even when pretending that you're not. You can use 'mental bondage' or pretend to have mental pain, or anything you want. As long as everyone is in it for the joy of the game, then it's fine. When people start using it to exploit one another or take money, that I take umbrage to.

But at the end of the day, hypnosis is awesome.

10/16/2011 1:00:30 PM

Have you ever noticed how many 'financial dommes' begin their profiles with some variation of "I am your newest addiction!"

 

I don't think they understand what this is all about. When a man is submissive, it doesn't mean he can't help but serve anyone he meets. It doesn't mean that he will instantly be addicted to something he has never done or someone he has never spoken to. A man who is submissive is not a man without standards, nor is it a man without interests.

 

Nor, most importantly, is it a man without basic cognitive ability.

 

I'm a submissive man, and I support this message.

10/4/2011 9:50:26 AM

Let's look at another ridiculous profile, shall we? Here's part of it:

"I WILL BE WAITING FOR ANY RESPONSIBLE MASTER THAT WHICH TO DO ME WELL AND I WILL ALSO SERVE THE MASTER AS I CAN OK LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU SOONEST.BYE AND GREAT BLESSING FOR ANY BODY THAT READ MY PROFILE."

 

Master that which to do me well? What the HELL is that?

 

Clearly, this woman is not a native english speaker. I can forgive that. She also doesn't understand how caps lock works. But the worst part? This is listed as a female DOMINANT. That's right. She is listed as a dominant. But this? This reads like... well, like a retarded child in desperate need of ADD medication. But if we cleaned it up, it would read like a submissive, right?

 

This things aggravate me to no end. Makes it harder to see who's real with all this insanity.

9/24/2011 7:57:36 PM

This is just great...

 

"

looking for LTR submissive.  you age  should  be between 25-40.  you will learn to sever me how i know you  should be.  you will not have a name when you start to sever me.  know this  when you sever me your not only severing a female that is way above you  but also who ever she if   you should sever . so if your not in to females and males dont repley to my profile it will not work out. I dont  do cyber and i dont do phone calls sex. I'm Loooking for some one to sever me long trem. so be real and able to meet.

"

 

This is a great example of the importance of spelling. Serve means to act as a servant or slave. SEVER, the word she uses, means to cut away or slice off. Let me rewrite part of this thing with that change:

"You will learn to cut me how i know you should be. You will not have a name when you start to cut me. Know this when you cut me your not only cutting away a female that is way above you but also who ever she if you should cut"

 

There's also the simple thing: Your is possessive. You're is a contraction.

 

But we should probably avoid people cutting people apart dominant women, even when they ask you to. There's a good chance they are just hideously bad spellers.

9/22/2011 10:01:56 AM

Tip for people trying to use fake pictures on their profiles: Don't post a picture that still has the web link for where you got it from.

I mean really, people. This is tantamount to handing in a paper for a college class with someone else's name on it, crossed off, with yours written in pencil over top. No one believes that's really you.

I'm all for people indulging in fantasy, putting pictures that represent who they would like to be, or what they like to do, whatever. But if you're passing it off as you, take the time to be a little convincing.

Please?

8/17/2011 4:30:26 PM

It's amazing how many straight female submissives aged 24 are viewing my profile! They never say anything, never send me messages. Why, it's as if they weren't real people, and just 'viewed' every profile in the hopes that people would talk to them, turned on by the 'women' they see in the pictures, and happy about the age. 24 is old enough to know what you're doing, but young enough to still look like a teenager.

 

It's an amazing coincidence. Really.

 

I mean, how else can you explain why all these straight submissive girls are looking at MY profile? My submissive profile. It's not like I have an ambiguous name. bootdegrade doesn't shout dominant to anyone, does it?

8/2/2011 9:29:26 PM

I need more people to talk to. Please don't be shy. I like talking, I like friends, and I'm generally pretty bored.

7/28/2011 9:33:13 PM

I think I'm starting to understand the language that is Collarme. That is to say, the real meanings of words used in profiles. It's a complicated language, but I think I have cracked at least some of the code for the profile NAMES. If it includes:

 "Princess": financial dom (scam), pretending to be younger

 "Goddess": financial dom (scam)

 "Master": heterosexual male who may or may not think bdsm means "free blowjobs"

 "bitch": mysogynistic heterosexual male who may or may not be claiming to be something else.

  "Lady": dominant woman who probably ACTUALLY understands what's going on

  "slave": when used to express the person (ie, 'yourslave') it means submissive who doesn't really understand anything. When used to express what you are looking for (ie, 'bemyslave') it means looking for a female submissive who doesn't know any better

  "Mistress": likes the fantasy, doesn't understand the reality

 

 

I'm not saying these are 100% accurate. But they seem to hit more often than they miss.

7/27/2011 11:42:36 AM

Q: What is the #1 sign guaranteeing that someone has baggage?

 

A: When they insist that they have no baggage.

 

EVERYONE has baggage. If you think you don't, your denial is just part of it.

7/1/2011 9:56:10 PM

Direct quote:

"I'ma college educated with a wonderful career. I have no children. I love domination of women. I seek a truesubmissive bitch to coller, take under my wing, teach, guide, and use her."

 

Spaces, spelling, and punctuation unchanged.

 

Look, I can forgive typos. We all make typos. But the site we're on is called COLLARme. The correct spelling of collar is literally RIGHT in front of you. Upper left hand corner. Oh, and again at the bottom of the page, or in the address bar.

 

And I appreciate that you went to college. Education is important, even if it is usually overrated. But if you DID go to college, you should know that "I'ma" isn't a word. And again, could be a typo. Only it's not. Look at the rest of the sentence. If we forgive the spacing, and fix it for you, it says "I'm a college educated with a wonderful career." There's a direct object missing from that sentence. You're a college educated WHAT? Woman? Dominant? Third world country? Blowfish? Ox testicle? (If you ARE a college educated ox testicle, drop me a line. I REALLY want to know how that works).

 

 

Last but not least, the true submissive. Never mind the spacing thing; I've done it myself in this journal entry, and I'm not going to fix it. But tell me, what IS a true submissive? What makes someone TRULY submissive? Is there a way to be a FALSE submissive? I assume so. You could pretend to be submissive when actually you aren't, trying to top from the bottom. But it seems to suggest that there is a difference between submissive and TRUE submissive.

 

What are the qualifications? Seriously.

6/25/2011 3:59:42 PM

Two things.

 

First, the opening text of a profile: "I started out as a slave however my kidneys failed and I have switched and now I am my husband/slave Mistress."

 

I don't even care about the minor grammar mistakes. I just want to talk about the kidney thing. Is that somehow relevant? Am I supposed to think that kidneys contain/secrete the chemical that makes someone submissive? She became dominant as soon as her kidneys failed. She took a point to mention that. So it must mean something.

 

right?

 

The other thing: A picture of a girl wearing a t shirt that says "I have the pussy, I make the rules" is just fine. It's a cute shirt, and one I agree with. But when you're advertising that you are ONLY interested in women, it gets confusing. If you find a female submissive... don't you BOTH have the pussy? Who makes the rules then?

 

I swear, this site is better than a webcomic.

6/21/2011 12:03:41 PM

Wait a minute. You can get 'certified' as a Dom? Is that what all those "under the protection/training of" bullshit things are about?

Someone was a sub, but now, after extensive training, they have been certified as a Dom, and are ready to take their place.

This offends me.

First off, there's nothing WRONG with being submissive. This suggests that submissives are just people who haven't learned the right way to live yet. But if that were true, and if EVERYONE took this course (what do you think? correspondance? Night school?) then there wouldn't BE any submissives. And how would that work?

Secondly, where does the certificate come from? is there some sort of association that presents them? What are the course requirements? Can you double major in Dominance and, say, Architecture?

Is there an exam at the end? Is it written? Shouldn't at least part of it be oral (what a charming single entendre)?

I know they don't have that strict of an application process. In fact, if all the people I've met claiming to be "true dominates" (yes, that was spelled wrong on purpose) come from this school, then I have about as much faith in its curriculum as I do in a conservative Shiite Burlesque academy. Or, if that's too obscure, than in the American legislative system.

I wonder if the certificate is valid in all countries.

 

Personally, I'm guessing it's only valid in the Phillipines. Based on this site.

6/19/2011 10:26:20 PM

I think I might have it. Financial Domination, in a non-scam sense.

 

For sake of ease, let's pretend our financial dominant is a woman named Beth. And our submissive is a man named Steve.

 

Beth doesn't get access to Steve's money.

 

When they go on dates, Steve pays for everything. But he does this at the start of the night, when he gives Beth a whole bunch of cash; whatever he is willing to spend on the date. Whenever possible, she points out (on the date) that she is paying, saying things like "oh, I don't let him carry money" or whatever to humiliate him.

 

Outside of dates, she sets a spending limit for Steve. Steve can use this money during his day to day life to buy a candy bar, or pay for lunch, or whatever. But it's not very much. At the end of the week, if he went over budget, she punishes him. If he did not, she rewards him.

 

As for all this money he's not spending, Steve often times uses it to buy Beth presents. Things they can both enjoy in a scene, or things that will make her happy. Sometimes they do tribute scenes, where he gives her a gift and she decides whether it is enough for him to be worthy of an orgasm.

 

She 'controls' his money. But it's the illusion of control. Just like consensual slavery. It's the ILLUSION of slavery, not ACTUAL slavery. That would be illegal.

 

Kind of like taking someone's money without their permission. You know... stealing?

5/2/2011 8:44:53 PM

I didn't want to say anything, but I just can't help it. Too funny.

 

There's this person whose profile I have looked at. I don't want to embarrass her, so I won't give you her name. But she has a list of turn ons and turn offs, and I must make snarky comments about them. Here are some (not all) of her turn ons:

 

 

Boys who offer to "serve" Me without knowing a single thing about Me.
A boy with a brain and a sense of humor.

(Here I have to comment: aren't these mutually exclusive? Would someone with a brain offer to "serve" her without knowing a single thing about her?)

A boy who is not afraid of intensity - on all levels.

(What about one who is only afraid of intensity on the level of international pressures, or a scene that leads to permanent disfigurement or death? Again, the brain thing comes to mind)

 

A boy who is all man and knows his role is to please Me.

(A boy who is all man? How can a boy -by definition NOT a man- be all man?)

 

And then there are the turn offs:

Dishonesty.

Disrespect.

Immaturity.

(All legitimate. I'm with you here.)

Mindless doormats.

(Wait. Didn't you want someone who wasn't afraid of intensity and who would submit without even knowing anything about you? Although, you DO want someone with a brain...)
stupid people make me mad, espesially with stupid questions about my PERSONAL life

(God forbid a potential sexual partner want to get to know you as a person.)

Not into, furries, nor anything I normally do on the toilet.

(I got nothing funny here. I just think it's a great sentence)

 

I think I may have it figured out: She wants a sub with a brain and a sense of humor. Enough of both to realize that the insane things she lists other places are just jokes. She doesn't want a doormat, which is why she doesn't want someone to just submit to her without knowing anything about her. Wait.... yes she does.

 

Okay, I'm all confused again.

5/2/2011 2:04:17 PM

Suddenly, a whole lot of submissive females are looking at my profile. None of them say hi.

 

I'm not upset, I just think it's weird.

4/28/2011 9:58:04 AM

I've noticed that "hit me up" is seeming to become slang for "I am trying to scam you."

 

I hate that I keep ragging on financial domination, and I know some people out there do it safely, sanely, and consensually... but seriously. The number of people who claim they want to suck people's bank accounts dry and ruin them financially is kind of disturbing.

 

My favorite, though, is when they have multiple pictures (not all of the same girl) and insist that they will only play online.

 

I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm okay with pretending to be someone else. But not if you're using it to steal from people.

4/18/2011 11:35:29 AM

I identify myself as 100% submissive. But what does that mean?

  I am not submissive in my day to day life. As a student I always dominated the classroom discussions. As a teacher, I have to assert my dominance. Socially, I tend to take a dominant leadership role somewhat naturally. I like to organize things, I like to make the world in my vision, rather than live in someone else's.

  But in the bedroom, I have NO desire for control. I am not a submissive who will try to top from the bottom. I'm not a bratty sub. I'm not even someone who needs to be 'broken.' I dive into submission as quickly and as hard as I can.

  In the bedroom, I want to be submissive. No, it's more than that. I NEED to be. Even when having 'vanilla' sex, I am still submissive; it's more important to me that my partner have an orgasm than that I do. I'm not just saying that; I've been profoundly disappointed in myself when I have an orgasm before my partner, because I know that I can't keep going, and I don't think it's fair. Often times, my partner's orgasms will CAUSE mine. I am only satisfied with sex when my partner gets to float on the wings of orgasm. Even if I don't, I'm still satisfied (though I doubt I would continue to be over a long enough period of time).

  I've tried to be dominant. I had a friend in college who wanted to explore submission, and I was someone she trusted, so I helped her out. I tied her up, I blindfolded her, I teased her a bit, played with ice. I did nothing with pain, nor with humiliation. A hardcore dominant would say that even with her tied up and blindfolded, I was STILL submitting to her. And that's probably true.

  Nevertheless, I felt PHYSICALLY ILL doing it. It worked better than a cold shower, despite the fact that there was a naked woman who I found attractive right there, open for whatever I wanted to do. I've never been gayer than I was at that moment.

  That, I think, is what it means to be 100% submissive. No desire to be dominant sexually. Not a doormat, not a sniveling worm. Just wanting to be submissive in the bedroom.

  You didn't ask. But there's my answer.

3/7/2011 11:44:18 AM

I still don't get financial domination. People who say they have a fetish for money; it boggles my mind.

 

Of course you have a fetish for money; our world, particularly those of us stuck in America, are taught practically from birth how important money is. We're shown that money IS sex, that having it makes you a better, prettier, happier person. We get swarmed with the importance of money long before we start developing sexually. So once we do start, that need for cash is always a part of it. Even when we don't realize it, we ALL have a fetish for money.

 

I have a fetish for boots. I love the look of them, the feel of them, and yes, the taste. But in order to really have that fetish catered to, either I or the person(s) I play with need to have money; without money, they can't afford the better, sexier boots. And what makes them better or sexier? Partially, it's the price. It's all about the benjamins, as they say.

 

But those who claim to actually have a fetish for money make me wonder. Do you get turned on when you buy something? If you work as a waiter or waitress, do tips make you horny? Do you masturbate to the stock market? Can you spread cash out on a bed and that would be enough for you to want to have sex?

 

I don't like making judgments about other people's sexualities, sexual interests, or anything like that. If you are into financial domination, that's fantastic for you. I just don't UNDERSTAND it.

 

To me, when someone says "I'm into financial domination," I hear "I'm a con artist who wants to take advantage of your sexual interests to make myself money." That's probably not fair, but that's how I see it. Which is why I would like to have it explained to me.

 

So if you are someone who is into financial domination, actually INTO it, please explain it to me. Especially if you're someone who likes BEING financially dominated. I'm not going to do it, but I would like to pick your brain a bit.

3/3/2011 9:58:29 AM

Maybe I'm elitist, maybe stuck up, maybe hyper critical.

 

But for some reason, I can't take a dominant seriously if they don't learn how to spell and use basic grammar. In a journal entry, I understand; typos happen. But for your profile, the blurb you are using to attract people to you, shouldn't you take the time to do a quick copy edit?

 

"form" is not "from"

 

"Dominate" is a verb, not an adjective (I've mentioned this before)

 

Spell things right.  Please.

12/18/2010 11:42:50 PM
I sometimes imagine someone going through one of these profiles, getting more and more excited as they read, and then coming to the end where it says "No fakers" and gets really depressed, deciding not to make contact because they know that they are fakers.

Does that actually work? I would think insisting that people not be fakers would just encourage MORE fakers, because they assume that you will already KNOW they're real just because they contacted you. After all, you SAID no fakers, so that means fakers couldn't POSSIBLY contact you.

Right?

It's one of those things that just kinda makes me wonder.
12/16/2010 4:29:21 PM
Does anyone actually have a positive experience with 'Financial Domination'? I try to think of myself as open minded, but every time I hear 'financial domination,' I can't help but think 'scam' and 'giving bdsm a bad name'

I'm interested to know if it DOES work. Does anyone enjoy it? From either end, has anyone done it and found it to be a positive and enriching experience?

Please, contact me and let me know. I really am curious.

Not interested... but curious.
11/19/2010 7:44:17 PM

(for reference: this picks up pretty much right after the last bit about the ten rules I don't know. Enjoy!)

 

I didn't get much sleep Friday night. Maybe it was the tail in my ass. Maybe it was the collar, or the mitts on my hands. Probably it was the fact that the closest thing I had to a pillow was a soiled adult diaper, smelling heavily of my own cum and piss as it soaked into my skin and dried up.

Before I eventually drifted off, I tried to think of what the other rules might be. I have to be able to guess all ten before this game ends. Some of them I already know, or at least I'm pretty sure of:


1. I can't use the bathroom without permission. I can use the diapers they make me wear, if I want. But...
2. I can't change diapers without permission.
3. I can't use my hands. I think part of the theme here is that I'm a dog. It's not currently a concern; my hands are in mitts, so I couldn't use them if I wanted to.
4. Don't make noise. A good doggy is a quiet doggy. Part of this means I can't speak either.
5. Stay on my knees, or lower, around them. It took a knee in the crotch (twice) to teach me this one. But I've got it down now.
6. No touching myself. If I get any release, it'll be because they permit it, not because I want to. These mitts have tiny spikes, supposedly for traction. It doesn't hurt that they also stop me from touching myself. That's a sensitive area, and not one I want scratched up.
7. Keep my head down. Don't make eye contact with any human beings. I'm below them, just a doggy, so I should remember my place.

I did finally fall asleep trying to figure out the other three rules. I was right on the edge of figuring them out, I think. But then I was asleep.

Day 5, part one
She woke me up gently, nudging me in the side with her bare foot. She let me peel the diaper off my body, then helped me put on a new one. Again, there was a hole cut in the diaper and the shorts for my tail.

"Good morning doggy," she said once I was properly dressed, on my knees, and staring at her feet.

"Good morning mistress" I said. It was an automatic reaction. I couldn't stop myself. But I broke a rule, so she kicked me with the top of her foot, basically slapping me across the face with it. I almost said I was sorry.

"Kiss it for thanks," she said, then pointed her toes so I could kiss her foot properly. "Good dog."

She goes around the kitchen, making breakfast. It smells great, and I remember that I haven't eaten any actual food since the dog food in my bowl last night before the party. I stay still despite my grumbling stomach. A good doggy is a quiet doggy.

After a little bit, she puts two small bowls on the floor. One of them has clear liquid.

"I think you're going to have to mostly serve your Master this weekend," she says. "I just started my period." Then she puts the second bowl down. It's a red liquid. "So I won't really want to play much."

I look at the bowls and wonder if I can do this.

"Go on boy. Drink. Do it." The last words come out as a command, and so I lean forward and suck down the clear liquid. It's rum. That's good; might help with the second one.

I take a deep breath before going down to the red bowl. She puts her foot between my legs and teases me a bit. "Go on," she says. "Prove that you're a good dog."

I close my eyes, hold my breath, and go to drain the bowl. I've never done anything with menstral fluids, and I had no idea what it was going to taste like, but I was determined to be a good slave, so I went ahead and sucked it up.

It was cranberry juice. When I sighed in relief, she started giggling. "I just wanted to see if you'd do it," she said. "I would never have scheduled this weekend if I thought I was going to be indisposed. But you did good, doggy. Why don't you go into the bedroom and wake up your Master. I'm sure he'd like to wake up to you sucking on him."

So I crawled to the bedroom, where he was sleeping with sheets thrown off him. He was gloriously naked, but not quite hard. He stiffened up when I ran my tongue up his shaft, though. Stiffened up enough for me to put him in my mouth and start sucking.

As he made all those great noises, it occurred to me that this really would be a fantastic way to wake up in the morning. Then it occurred to me what most people usually have to do first thing in the morning.

Oh well. Not my first time drinking his piss.

11/4/2010 7:04:48 AM

For the love of god people...

 

Dominate is a verb. It means to have control over, to rule.

 

If you are someone who likes to dominate, then you are Dominant.

 

Dominant is an adjective. It modifies a noun and describes a quality of that person, place, or thing. For example, there can be a dominant ideology, or a dominant woman. A man can dominate his coworkers, or can dominate his submissive. But a man cannot be a dominate. Nor can a woman. There are no dominate females. There are dominant ones, but that's different.

 

Can we try to use the language we've all agreed on?

5/4/2010 2:08:28 PM
Why do we feel a need to belittle one another's interest in this lifestyle?

Is there really a definition of a "Real" dominant, submissive, switch, master, mistress, slave, etc?

No.

We each have our own definitions. Telling someone that they aren't "really" submissive because they have limits, or aren't "really" dominant because they are willing to submit once in a while is just stupid. 

I don't see the point of financial domination. To ME, it seems like a scam. But I'm told some people get into it, and really like it. Who am I to say that's wrong? I hope people are careful and watch out for scammers in the same way they watch out for psychopaths, truly abusive people, etc. Financial domination isn't my thing, but that doesn't mean it isn't 'real'; it also doesn't mean that those people aren't.

I mean, *I*'m not real, but that's a whole different conversation.

Please, can we just be nice and accept that we are all members of a marginalized group ALREADY, and don't need to marginalize each other any further?

And to those women who get flooded with unwanted messages from men who want them to submit (even when the woman is explicitly dominant) or to have a relationship (even when the woman is explicitly a lesbian): you have my apologies at least. I'd write you each to apologize more specifically, but that would be kind of against the point.


5/4/2010 2:02:23 PM
It seems there is no more interest in the tale of how I learned the ten rules my owners picked for me. It seems no one cares about what I've done the last three weeks.

That's okay; I'm just not going to bother writing it if no one is reading it.

So, unless I get orders to post it anyway, that's it.

You're only missing the story of me acting more like a dog, of how my shoulder got dislocated, the time I was beaten into unconsciousness, and my loaning out to someone who USED to respect me.

Oh well.
4/28/2010 11:16:11 AM
There were again some guests who didn't want to do anything with me. Some of them didn't even come to the back room. One girl just had me face the corner for fifteen minutes while she read a magazine. Another used me as a foot rest.

Two of the men wanted head; one of them rather aggressively fucked my face, enough that my neck hurt afterward.

But the really interesting one was the man who really got into the idea of me being a dog.

"Tell me about when you fuck another dog," he said.

I told him I'd never done that.

"I didn't ask you that," he said. "Tell me about when you do it. When another dog makes you his bitch. Because you would be a bitch. Wouldn't you?"

I nodded. He laughed. "Tell me about it," he said. "About the dog mounting you, about the way he fucked you."

I made something up. I told him about the dog's claws scratching my shoulders, about the pressure of his cock on my ass. I told him about the dog cumming way more than anyone else ever had, and about the knot that got stuck inside - I have no idea if any of that is true. Like I said, I've never had sex with an animal (nor will I), but what he wanted was the fantasy, and I'm obviously not above making up stories about things and claiming I really did them.

After a minute or so of description, of him prompting me about how the dog would always see me as his bitch, of the things I would do to serve my new dog master, he whipped out his cock and started to masturbate in my face. He had me keep talking until he got off, shooting his cum right in my face.

"Now lick it clean," he said. I leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock. "Not me, you idiot!" he pulled away from me. "I don't want to touch you. You're probably diseased. I meant lick the cum clean."

So I did, pulling it off my face and licking my fingers clean while he watched.

Neither of my owners came back for their fifteen minutes. As they knew, they had all weekend.

The party finally ended, and while I was exhausted, I did as I was instructed and knelt by the door. He told me to keep my mouth open, and my eyes closed. One by one the guests left, each of them spitting in my mouth before walking out the door. Some of them spat just a little, some of them made sure there was something there I would taste.

With them finally gone, she patted my head and told me I was a good doggie. Then she took off my diaper and shook her head. "Wow," she said. "Looks like you came quite a bit in here." She put the diaper on the floor, then put her boot on my shoulder, wrapped it around my neck, and slowly pulled me down onto it. She stepped on my head, grinding my face into the soiled diaper.

"You'd better be in this position when I wake up," she said, pulling her foot off me and walking to go to the bedroom. I heard them having sex a few minutes later.

And that's how I spent my Friday night. Naked, hideously erect, with a tail stuffed in my ass, a collar locked on my neck, my hands in mitts, and my face pressed into a soiled diaper, smelling my own cum and my own piss as both of them dried on my skin.
4/27/2010 5:11:40 PM
When the first guest arrived, I met him at the doorway, on my hands and knees. She told her guest that I was there for his pleasure, and that he should feel free to give me his coat. He draped it over my back, and I waited for orders to put them away. Every few guests, I was told to deposit the coats in the other room.

I figured out another rule, and was smart enough, after the first slap, not to look any of the guests in the eye, nor even raise my eyes in the slightest. I kept my head down, and concentrated on being a good dog.

Once the coats were away, the wine was passed out, and the music was playing, the guests were informed just what I was meant to be used for.

"The doggie is going to come to each of you and kiss your feet. If you let him, he will lick your shoes clean."

"Soles too," he said, and I knew that comment was just for me. I nodded, without even realizing it.

She laughed. "Yeah, soles too. Once he's gotten everyone, we'll go around the circle. You take him to the back room for fifteen minutes."

"And do what?" I didn't like the tone of voice the young man used to ask that question.

And worse, she shrugged. "I have no idea," she said. "And I don't need to know. All I know is that if he doesn't obey you, he's going to get punished. So he'd better please you all." She nudged me with her boot. I nodded again.

Then I began my rounds. A few of them didn't seem comfortable, and just had me move on after kissing their shoes. I still have no idea what most of them looked like; I was only able to judge by what they had on their feet.

The first ones that let me lick it clean was a pair of stiletto heels. I licked, then I sucked the heel. Then I licked another pair, pushing my tongue into the treads of a pair of doc martins.

Then, eventually, I came to His boots. He leaned down while I was cleaning them and whispered in my ear. "It took me almost ten minutes to find it," he said, "but I did find some dog shit to step in. Just for you. Eat up, doggie boy."

Again... that was just the beginning. When I finished all the shoes, we started going to the back room....
4/26/2010 7:36:36 PM
It's been a busy few days. I took Friday off so I could spend the weekend with them, trying to guess the other rules.

When I arrived Friday morning, I knelt at the door before knocking. I don't know if anyone saw me, but it doesn't really matter; I'd have done it with a camera crew over my shoulder if need be.

He put that commitment to the test when he came to the door, opened his robe, and had me suck him there in the doorway, in plain view for anyone to see. When he was done humiliating me with that, he patted me on the head and told me I could come in, but not to swallow yet.

So I crawled inside and he shut the door behind me.

"Did he do it?" she asked. I opened her mouth to show that I hadn't swallowed. "Good doggie," she said. "You can swallow. Then go to the table and drink."

There were two glasses on the table again. One of them was thick and brown, the other was just water. Well, not JUST water. There was a powdered viagra mixed into it.

And another in the chocolate.

They fed me dog food, then he left for work, and I was alone with her for the next several hours.

Once he left, I turned and asked her what she wanted to do. She slapped me. I asked her why she slapped me, and she hit me again. Hard enough that I think I tasted blood. Hard enough that I understood that I was not to speak.

She watched me come to the realization and smiled. "Good doggie," she said. "Now take off your clothes and put them in the garbage."

I was careful not to get off my knees while I stripped, and I knew better than to stop at anything short of complete nudity.

When I was done, she patted my head and put a thick leather collar around my neck. I heard the *snick* of a padlock, and knew that thing wasn't coming off any time soon.

About this time, the Viagra kicked in. I think. I know I was horny, and so hard I thought I was going to burst. She gave me her evil grin and went into the bathroom, ordering me to follow her.

I knelt in the corner while she showered. She kept looking at me to see if I was touching myself. So far, so good. I think that tipped me off. I had rules:
1. No eating with my hands
2. Stay on all fours
3. bathroom only with permission
4. no talking
5. no touching myself

I was halfway there. And, not coincidentally, I didn't know the half of it.

She sat on my back with her bare ass as she brushed out her hair and did her makeup. She put on her boots right next to my face, the leather so close I could taste it - almost.

Then she walked out of the bathroom, turned to me and patted her thigh. "Come on boy," she said, and I crawled out after her.

"We're having a party tonight," she told me. "You're the entertainment. You have until five o'clock to guess all ten rules if you want to avoid it." She smiled at me. "But I don't think that's going to happen. Is it little doggie?"

I was beginning to wonder about all the doggie comments, but when she pulled out the butt plug with the tail on it, and the padded mittens, I started to figure things out.

She let me suck on the plug for a little bit to give it some lube, then shoved it home. I twitched, and she slapped my raging erection. "You're not going to need that," she said. "We should put it away."

And then the diaper came out again. She cut a hole in the back for my tail, put it on me, then pulled a pair of lycra shorts over top of it (again with a hole for the tail; she's nothing if not thorough).

Once the mitts were on, I had no fingers, no thumbs. I couldn't get out if I wanted to.

And I didn't.

I was rewarded with the privilege of licking her boots clean while she watched television.

He came home a few hours later, about an hour before the party started. Of course, the party was just the START of the weekend.

I'm not honestly sure I should go on. Rather, I'm not sure what They want me to say, what They are willing to have me post about that party.

So I guess I'll get back to you.
4/21/2010 5:00:37 PM
I know two rules. The first is that I can't use the bathroom without permission. The second is not to eat with my hands.

I have an idea for a third rule too. I think I'm supposed to stay on my knees (or lower) around them.

I figured out this third rule when they answered the door yesterday. I was still sore from having the shit beaten out of me, so I just stood there when she came to the door. She opened it, took one look at me, and then smashed her knee up into my crotch. There was an explosion of pain, then a long, drawn out pain that comes from getting hit in the testicles.

Her aim is perfect. She doesn't clip anything, she doesn't miss, and she hits hard enough that I couldn't stay on my feet if my life depended on it.

"Come in," she said to me as I lay curled up in the doorway. I crawled forward so she could shut the door, and she pointed once again at the table. There were two glasses there again. One of them had clear liquid, one of them looked like milk.

After a minute or so of hurting, I pulled myself to my feet and stumbled to the table. The first glass was spit. The second tasted like milk.

"Good boy," she said. Then slammed her knee into my crotch again.

After that, I was at least smart enough not to stand up again.

But it didn't take long to figure out what the second liquid was. I was sitting on the floor when my stomach turned.

She giggled.

I looked up at her, and she winked at me.

My stomach turned again. She giggled again.

"Before you ask," she said, "No, you can't take off your diaper. And you can't change it until you get home."

That's when it hit me.

Laxative.
4/20/2010 12:43:16 PM
When I got home last night, there were two shot glasses on the table. One of them had a clear liquid, the other had a milky one.

They met me at the door, made me show them the spit still in my mouth, then allowed me to swallow.

"Go drink the glasses," she told me. Then she put a finger on my lips. "Don't even think of asking what's in them."

So I took a deep breath and took down the milky one first. It was cum, which tastes very different cold.

The other was vodka. Wasn't expecting that.

I put the glasses away, cleaning them carefully, then doing the other dishes they had left for me. She sat at the table and watched me, chatting about her day. Occasionally she'd ask how it was not having to leave my desk for the bathroom. I told her it was convenient.

"Good. Then keep those on."

We ordered pizza for dinner. I was the table. The pizza box was so hot, I thought my skin was going to burn off- the t-shirt I had on wasn't enough to save me from the heat. But I didn't say a word, I didn't whimper, and when they were done, they threw the rest of the pizza on the floor for me to eat.

I ate without my hands, which made her happy. He seemed a bit disappointed, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him put his needle kit away. I was smiling at my cleverness, eating the scraps of pizza, when he came back into the room.

He didn't say a word, just threw a bucket of ice cold water over my back.

I couldn't help it, I screamed. My back had been so hot for so long, and the sudden cold was just a total shock. I nearly lost consciousness.

"You make too much noise," he told me, putting my hands into wrist protectors. I knew what that meant - my hands were going to be supporting my body weight. The bones in the wrists and hands aren't strong enough to really do that, but with good wrist protectors that distribute and take off a bunch of the weight, it is possible. These ones spread the weight all across my arms and even up to my shoulders.

So no worry about broken bones. But there was worry about what happened next.

He told me to open my mouth, and put a ball gag - larger than normal - in. Then he leaned real close and whispered to me. "Ever wonder what it was like to literally have the shit beaten out of you?" he asked.

Then he put on some padded gloves. Not for me; they were to protect his knuckles. He was going to get a good work out, and I was going to be his punching bag.

Every so often, when he stopped for breath, he'd sniff at the air. I didn't know what he was doing at first; my mind was a bit thrown off by the pounding to my stomach, my chest, and my sides. I was busy trying to get air in through my nose and trying not to pass out.

But eventually, I put things together. So about an hour after he started, my bowels loosened, and I shat myself. He beat the shit out of me. Literally.

I was permitted to change diapers after that, but was sent home without any kind of relief.

I do think I came up with a rule or two, though: don't use my hands to eat, and don't make noise.

I think my entire torso is bruised. Not that anyone here at work could tell.
4/19/2010 12:48:35 PM
A new game. New rules.

Only I don't know them.

That's part of the game, they told me. I have to do as I'm told, and when I break a rule, I get punished. They don't tell me what I did to get punished. All I've been told is that there are ten rules.

And the game doesn't stop until I guess all ten.

So I'm sitting here in my office wearing a diaper. Yes, a diaper. It's under my pants, and it doesn't make much noise when I walk. But the diaper helped me guess the first rule: I can't use the bathroom unless they give me permission.

I figured that out without punishment. I also figured out that I can use the diaper if I have to, but I can't change it. So I'm holding it in as long as I can, waiting until I leave for the night before I pee. My bladder already feels like it's going to explode, but if I don't make it, I'm going to stink.

I just received a text. It told me that I broke a rule today, and as punishment I have to go to the store where Trudy works and beg Trudy for permission to be her toilet. I'm not to leave until she does all that she wants to, and I'm supposed to ask her to spit in my mouth when I'm done. They want proof.

Which means I can't swallow. I have to keep her spit in my mouth until I can show them.

This is going to be a long game...
4/13/2010 4:50:27 PM
XY. Chromosomes.

There were five of them total. They took viagra.

She wore heels, walking me to the plastic mat in the bathroom. She put a noseplug on me, then invited the boys in. She watched as they fucked my mouth a little, as they made me jerk them off, and as they came on me. On my lips, in my hair, on my face, in my mouth. It felt like hours. Everyone came five or six times. My eyes were closed by the cum, and it was literally dripping off me.

Well, almost everyone. I didn't. I'm still locked in my cage, so no matter how horny I got, there was nothing to be done for it.

I begged her to let me out when they left. I begged her. She laughed at me and told me to clean myself off. Once I did, she gave me the Zentai suit.

Zentai is a skin tight suit. Mine is black. It covers every inch of my body, and while I can see, breathe, and hear through it, it looks like I have no features. I am a non-person, which she says is the point.

I spent the rest of the night, all the way until about two in the morning, serving them as a non-person. I wasn't allowed to speak, only to act. So I acted. I acted as a table, as a foot rest, as a pillow. I got them food and drink, not getting any for myself. I was a door mat. For a while, I was an end table, with the phone sitting on my back while she chatted with her family.

Eventually, when they decided to go to bed, I was left as a non-person, a shadow in the corner of the closet.

But then, when I woke up, she let me out. And I mean let me out completely. I became a person once more, my cage unlocked, and I was allowed to cum. A lot. She made me cum half a dozen times, into a cup.

Tonight, I have to drink the cup, or I'll be locked up all over again, this time for a full month.

I don't think I'd make it. So I will drink.

And I'll drink to freedom.

Sort of.
4/12/2010 9:08:36 AM
The last four days have been intense. No doubt about that.

It began with R, for Restraint. I spent most of Thursday night and all of Friday unable to really move.

It began Thursday night, when I received very specific orders. I was to leave the door to my apartment unlocked, strip naked, and handcuff myself to the bed with a blindfold on.

I was laying there for what felt like hours before he showed up. I didn't know he was there until I felt my legs being lifted up and tied to the head board. But once that happened, I knew he was there, and I knew what he was going to do. After the other day, I was just grateful he was using lube.

I came again by the time he was done. It hit my face, across my lips and on my cheek. I would've wiped it off, but I couldn't; with my legs bound where they were, I could barely even shift my neck. So instead, with the smell strongly in my nose, I had to wait to be let free.

But that didn't happen right away. In fact, it didn't happen until he'd used me two more times, until my own cum had dried on my face and his had dried on its way up my chest.

By the time I was let go, I was so sore that I couldn't really move. I was allowed to lay on the floor, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Friday came with Saran Wrap. First around my arms, then around my chest, then around my arms and chest together. Each leg wrapped separately, then wrapped together. I was not cleaned off before hand.

One of his dirty socks was put in my mouth, and I spent most of Friday on the floor like that. They smoked in my apartment, they laughed at me, and occasionally they nudged me with a boot, just to tease me.

The saran wrap was hot. I was sweating almost immediately. But they left me in it for hours, until I was whimpering.

Then they let me go, and the weekend really began. I was thirsty, so desperately thirsty. They told me to beg to be their toilet, and I did. I begged for them to piss in my mouth, and they did, both of them. She used my face as toilet paper when she was done, and he just had me keep sucking once the piss was gone. I went through the same little ritual Saturday morning.

They laughed while I was there, hands now tied behind my back with zip ties. They laughed, and they both spat in my face, saying that I was disgusting and pathetic, and they couldn't believe I was letting them do this.

All this was turning them on, so I was left, spittle dribbling down my face over the crust of my own dried cum, to watch as they had sex with each other not five feet from me. And when they were done, as their toilet, I had to clean them both up afterwards. I had to suck his cum out of her, lick them both clean, and once again accept their piss as they both tried to 'avoid infection' by pissing right after sex.

I should mention that I make an unattractive girl. That's important because after they were finally finished laughing at me, they dressed me in stockings and a skirt, a wig, and a corset. Then they put me in a maid's uniform. Better uniform than Urethral sounds, I suppose.

There was no real end in sight, not until Saturday night. They cut my arms free, gave me a shower, and told me how impressed they were with me. They loved that I did all this without complaint, that I was going through everything they were putting me through. They told me that they love me, that I'm a valuable part of their relationship, and they're glad they found me.

Then they put a vibrator in my ass and laid me down on their vacuum bed.

It's a strange experience. The rubber feels like a second skin, and the breathing through the tube takes getting used to. But mostly it's just a complete lack of mobility. I couldn't so much as bend a finger once the bed was locked into place. It was oddly relaxing.

There was no whipping or anything while I was in the bed. Those beds are expensive, and no one wanted to rip it. I couldn't really hear anything, but when they let me out the next morning, I wasn't surprised to hear them call me their little piss whore, and demanding the same service. So I drank her piss, and she ground herself against my face for a little while. Then I drank his and sucked him clean afterwards.

After that was done, they let me get dressed and sent me home. I'm almost done. We've done the alphabet up to W. V for Vacuum bed and Vibrator, W for water sports and Writing erotica (which is what I'm doing right now).

The trouble is, there's nothing on the list that starts with X or Y. But this morning they told me they have an idea, and they're trying to organize it.

I guess I'll see tonight. I'm excited, but scared. At least for Z I know what I'm getting into. Zentai is the only thing we have that starts with Z. And after a vacuum bed, Zentai doesn't worry me.

But then... Then I'll be unlocked. I've cum three times since it was locked on. It's harder than I expected.

One more day. Maybe two.
4/8/2010 11:48:07 AM
I was nervous when I was summoned. I showed up at the door, stripped, and put in the cock gag when she handed it to me. I  let her cuff my hands behind my back. She led me over to the stool and bent me over it. She put clamps on my nipples, grinding them tighter and tighter until I was breathing heavily and whimpering. Then she attached the little weights.

I winced when she put the lube into my ass - it was cold - but I was grateful for it a few seconds later, when she started thrusting that ten inch monster into me. It felt like I was being ripped apart, but also felt so incredibly good; maybe I'd been locked up too long.

I strained against my cage, but it wouldn't budge. I whimpered. That made her laugh.

"Don't pretend you don't like this," she said, pushed deep inside of me. She leaned down, pressing her breasts against my back so she could whisper in my ear. "You know you love the feeling of having a cock deep in each of your holes. Admit it." She flicked the little weights hanging of the clamps. It sent another blast of sensation through me, making me gasp onto my cock gag. "You love it."

She laughed when I didn't argue.

"You are pathetic," she said, building a rhythm as she fucked me. "I can't believe you call yourself a man. You're just a cock hungry slut, wanting to be fucked" She thrust deeper than before, making me gasp, "aren't you?"

She kept on like that, laughing at me, asking why I bothered to tell people I was straight, why I even agreed to be bisexual. She called me a fag, told me that all I was good for was sucking cock and getting fucked.

It didn't take long. Between the talking and the pressure on my prostate, I came, and I came HARD. All over the kitchen floor, blasting out through my cage and giving me an orgasm that nearly had me passing out.

She pulled out, still laughing, and pulled the gag out of my mouth. "Disgusting," she said. "You got my dildo all dirty." She reached one hand under my chin and lifted my head up. "Lick it clean," she said.

Once she had her fill of fucking my face, reminding me that the cock I was sucking had been inside my ass a few seconds ago, she let me get off the stool. "I'll uncuff you when you finish licking up all that cum," she said, gesturing at what was by now the cold remnants of my orgasm. "Go ahead," she said. "Don't pretend you don't want to. It's okay."

It never seems to taste the same twice. Sometimes it's salty, sometimes the texture is almost rubbery. Sometimes it's completely tasteless. It also tastes different cold. Can't really describe it.

But I did it. And when I did, first she unhooked the nipple clamps, laughing as the blood flowed back into them and they started hurting all over again. She played with them a little, flicking them and twisting them while I squirmed.

Finally, when the flames in my nipples had subsided, she undid my wrists. I rolled my shoulders, trying to get loose. She got up and sat behind me, giving me a bit of a massage.

"You know," she said, "You really should get those pierced. You have the greatest nipples for piercing." She kissed me on the head.

I laughed. "Did you have fun?" I asked.

She laughed too. "Hell yeah I had fun. And don't even try to say you didn't."

"It was unexpected," I said. "The cleaning, I mean."

"Yeah." She leaned around so I could see the evil grin on her face. "I was just trying to help."

"What do you mean?"

"M is for Mistress with strapon. N is for nipple clamps and torture. O is for oral sex, orgasm control, and objectification."

I shook my head.

"Oh, yeah. And P is for Play rape, Pain, and Prostate milking."

"Wow."

She came around and sat in front of me, unhooking her strap on and pulling part of it from inside her. "If you want, we can get Q is for Queening out of the way too." Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "It's only fair," she said. "You came, so I should. And if you do a good job, I'll stop before you pass out." She pushed onto my back and straddled my face. Every so often, she'd get up a little so I could breathe, then grind back down on me.

It wasn't exactly fair. I came once. She came three times. Then she pissed in my mouth when she was done. I lay there for a little while while she got dressed, tussled my hair, and told me to "Get the fuck out of here."

So now I'm done up to Q. Tonight, I'll be Restrained all night with a Remote controlled vibrator stuck inside me. Which will eventually bring me to S.

So many options for S...


4/6/2010 12:39:28 PM
Every day I'm locked up I get hornier, but to get unlocked, I have to do things that make it even worse. I think that's the point. By the time I get to Z, I'll probably agree to anything just to be able to cum.

But to get to Z, I have to go through the rest of the alphabet. I just got back from doing a couple of the others.

I only had one hour for lunch, so I had to hurry. But I slipped out a little early, so I had no trouble arriving on time. I knocked on the door while kneeling, and when the door opened, I crawled inside without looking up.

The hood was pulled over my head, then locked on by a collar. It's a tight hood, with a zipper over the mouth and no holes for eyes. A blindfold that covers my entire head.

Hood wasn't enough of an H, though. So I had my mouth open, begging to be used as a human toilet, and then being grateful as I swallowed all the piss.

I got on my back, as I was told, and my legs were pulled up and apart, leaving me wide open. I tried to contract from the cold of the ice cube, but there was no hope. Two cubes, then three, then a plug to keep them inside. I was breathing hard and fast, but that didn't matter.

Not much choice for J. Japanese bondage. It took almost twenty minutes to tie me up, but by the end, I was suspended and bent into a position much less uncomfortable than I would've imagined.

Then the kicking started. I wasn't high off the ground, apparently, because the kicks came to my side pretty solidly. Twice, the kick clipped my head and sent me spinning on the rope, but never so much as to be dangerous. Which is good, because I was completely helpless.

The kicking just kept going, leaving me literally sobbing into my hood. When I was finally let down (dropped) and untied, it felt like every muscle in my body was sore. No doubt the L had been covered: that kicking definitely Left marks. And if that wasn't enough, I'm now wearing lacy underwear and trying not to grimace every time I shift position in my chair.

I was told to leave, that the M wouldn't come until next time. I can go further if I want, counting Masochism or Male submission as my M. But if I wait until I am summoned, the M will be Mistress with a Strapon, and I'll be fucked in the ass until I cum. I'll have to lick it up, of course, but at least I'll get to cum.

So far, that's what I'm holding out for. My only options for N are Needle Play or Nipple torture; possibly both. It's more choice than I'll have for Z, but that's not comforting.

Neither is the wondering of what I will have to do for X. I was told that there are plans, and it's not a trick. But I won't have any choice that day. And "That day" was very much specified.

I'm nervous, I'm trying to get hard (but can't because of the device I'm locked in), and I've never been so excited.
4/5/2010 8:43:44 AM
I've been locked up now for six days, and today, I found out what it will take to get the key back: I have to go through the alphabet. If I do more than one letter a day, then I'll get it faster. But if not, I have another twenty six days until I can have any hope of release.

The bathroom incident last week counted for several letters: A (anonymous encounter); B (blow job, butt plug, and bisexuality); C (chastity device); D (degradation, deep throating, double penetration); F (face fucking), and a bunch of others.

But, since I skipped E, that's where I have to start; nothing else counts. So today, I have to do something that starts with E. And I have to write about it in my journal. In fact, I have to write about all of it in my journal. That's part of the rules.

So today, I went out and got a pair of latex shorts. They stretch, but they're nice and tight around my legs. Which is good, because before I left for work, I gave myself an enema. It's still there (held in by the shorts and a butt plug), and my stomach is cramped as all hell. But it was just warm water, so sooner or later my body will absorb it. Already the pain is lessening.

But while it was still there, I decided to try to get F out of the way. For that, I needed the help of Trudy, the girl who works in the sex shop I go to. She has great feet, and today she was wearing open sandals. She was kind enough to let me lick her feet and suck on her toes while she waited on another customer (which technically gives me exhibitionism as well). She said she'd be happy to help with my alphabet; I'm supposed to come back to her for at least S and T.

We'll see how it goes.

One thing I know for sure: later on, Trudy is going to help me with G. She said she needed time to drink some water, but as soon as I finish posting this, I'm going back there and she's going to give me a golden shower. She said she'd do it as long as I promised to let it dry naturally and just go back to work.

I'm going to stink, I think.
3/31/2010 10:59:11 AM
Why am I not interested in an 18 year old mistress?

Let me be more clear. Why does it seem like Cougars are the ones younger subs such as myself (still technically under 30) aim for/desire?

Because it's true. If I were looking (and I'm not) for someone, I'd be far more interested in a woman in her late 30s, her 40s, even her 50s than I would be in a woman in her late teens or early 20s.

Why is that? Well, thinking back to when I was a teenager and in my early 20s, I remember thinking about the world very differently than I do now. For one thing, I was still concerned with what was 'normal' and what kind of sex was 'weird.' I had to convince myself to play with a friend, and it didn't help that she didn't know any better than I did.

But an older woman, one who has lived long enough to have real experience, to understand that what happens in a scene isn't necessarily 'real' and that just because I want her to kick the crap out of me, and make me lick her boot clean afterwards as a thank you, doesn't mean I'm a freak, doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me.

Older women are more psychologically stable, more financially stable, and more emotionally stable.

I think about some friends I have that are on the very young end of the spectrum. I know one girl who is 18. Would I ever want to sleep with her, even if there was an option? Not really. Putting aside the fact that she's not a Domme, I don't think she has the confidence in herself to BE a Domme. And I don't think she has the emotional maturity to handle bdsm. Not with me. Could she handle it with another 18 year old? Probably. They think alike, they can handle things together, and they're able to accept their partner freaking out for a while.

No, I don't want someone that much younger than me, even creepiness aside. I happen to prescribe to the age factor of divide by 2 and add 7. (so, at 30, that means no one younger than [(30/2)+7], or 22. Even that would be pushing it. I think that for bdsm, the number might be decreased to 4 instead of 7.

But actually, I'd rather BE the divide by 2 and add 7. Or rather, I'd like to subtract 7 from my age and double it: (30-7)*2, or 46. Could I get in bed with a 46 year old? Sure. She probably has life a whole lot more figured out than I do. I can trust that she's not looking to have me pay all her bills, she has no intention of latching on to me, and she's probably very adventurous. She has learned that life is about finding what YOU like, not about what other people tell you to like.

So yeah, if I had to choose (and thankfully, I don't; my lovely wife is all I need) between an 18 year old who claimed to be kinky, or a 46 year old woman who said she was kinky, I'd be with the 46 year old every time.

EVERY time.
3/30/2010 4:27:27 PM
This morning, I was given orders. With my cock firmly locked in its brand new cage, I was to insert the big plug into my ass before work. The day would be spent bound and full, and I was not to go to the bathroom at work. I had to-- well, let me just tell you what happened.

I went to a bar for lunch. It was supposed to be a 'dive' bar, and it was. I ordered really greasy food, hoping the plug would keep things in when my stomach turned. I drank two beers right away, as I was told. It wasn't long before I had to go to the bathroom.

So into a stall I went. I closed it behind me, but didn't lock it: slaves apparently don't GET privacy. The best I could do was lean against the door while I pissed.

It sounded odd going into my water bottle. I didn't think it was at all possible that someone would mistake the sound for me using the actual toilet.

When he came in, I heard him stop and listen. I heard the chuckle. Then the door shook a little when he wrapped on it with his knuckle.

I screwed the top back on the bottle, zipped myself up, and opened the stall.

He wasn't an attractive man, but I've seen worse. The lecherous smile on his face was almost infectious as he looked at the bottle in my hand, my cock shriveled in its cage, and then over at the toilet, empty and unused.

He stepped past me and sat down. I wondered if this was a setup; did he KNOW about my orders? When he pulled his pants down to his ankles to use the toilet, it seemed like he did. When he pulled out his cock and waved me forward, I was certain.

He farted as he came in my mouth. Then he patted me on the head and told me to go ahead and swallow. He asked if I'd be there again tomorrow. I didn't answer, but I think we both knew.

Back to work, water bottle in hand. For the rest of the day, I was to drink from the bottle. If I had to go again, all I could do was refill. According to the rules, there was only one way I could avoid it: if I don't want to drink my piss, then I have to drink someone else's.

But that's for another day, I guess.
3/30/2010 3:03:36 PM
I wonder... if I wrote out a fantasy and pretended it was true... would people believe me, or would they spot it right away?

When I try, I guess we'll see who reads my journal and who just read the free porn.
3/29/2010 9:28:49 AM
Today's fantasy examination is brought to you by the letter K. And the number 4.

Four things that start with K: Kicking, Kidnapping, Kneeling, and Klismaphilia.

First, some definitions (I had to look it up): Klismaphilia is gaining sexual satisfaction from enemas (thank you Wikipedia!). Kidnapping is of course a FANTASY, and kicking and kneeling are pretty self explanatory.

Could they be combined? Sure. Kidnap someone, kick them, then give them an enema and make them wait on their knees. Maybe threaten to kick them some more (which can be VERY dangerous if the stomach ends up distended).

But let me look at them individually. First, I love kneeling and I love kicking. I have bad knees and a terrible back, so kneeling for any length of time is INCREDIBLY painful for me, and eventually my body just simply refuses to continue. But I love the submission of it, and I love all the things that can be done from kneeling positions (in particular, oral sex! or boot licking!).

I also love getting kicked. You can put a surprising amount of force behind a kick if you're careful; use the inside of your foot to kick instead of the toe, and you can pretty much just wail away to your heart's content. And what's better than kicking the crap out of a sub? Kicking the crap out of a sub and stopping every so often to make him kiss or lick the boots you are using to kick his ass.

Now, what about kidnapping? I've never actually done this fantasy, but I want to. I  imagine it where either I wait somewhere, not knowing when it's going to happen save for a window (of like an hour). At some point, my dom/me pulls up, either alone or with some help. A bag is thrown over my head. Maybe I'm zapped with a tazer. My hands get bound together, probably by duct tape, as to my ankles, and I get tossed in a trunk. Alternately, I just go and stand by the trunk with my Top, and he/she then either hits me, zaps me, or something like that to get me into the trunk. Either way, being stuck in the trunk for a while is an important part of it.

(speaking of which: trunk safety is important. Cars are designed so that the trunk crumbles in an accident. If someone is stuck inside the trunk and you get hit from behind, they are going to die. And you're going to jail. Be CAREFUL)

But what about Klismaphilia? I've had a couple of enemas, and I can say that there is a definite sense of satisfaction when you finally expel it. Do I get off on enemas? I wouldn't say I do, but I can see the joy of them. It's kind of cool to have that fight, trying to hold it inside, knowing that you can't hold it forever, but that there is a chance that if you hold it long enough, it'll be absorbed by your body. Knowing that if you DON'T hold it long enough, you're going to make a mess that you'll have to clean up... possibly with your tongue.

Yeah, I can see it.
3/25/2010 1:19:41 PM
After seeing so many people claiming to be real, or claiming that others are not real, I've started thinking, and I've come to a conclusion:

I'm not real.

Let me explain. The person I am here, whose thoughts you are even now reading, isn't real. That's not me. It's a part of me, but Hamlet was a part of Shakespeare. Charlie Brown was a part of Shultz. Frodo was part of Tolkein.

bootdegrade, for what he is, is just a character. He's a character I play when I can, and I like putting on the role and being him. But he's not real. He's not me.

How do I know this? Well, bootdegrade is my name here, but not my name in real life. The real me has a job, and an outside life; more to the point, he has a physical body. I (bootdegrade) don't. I only have pictures of one. Granted, the pictures I have are of the real me, but the real me in the past (by necessity; I dare you to show me a picture of the present or future).

Does this mean I'm not real? Maybe it means I'm more real than everyone, because I can at least admit that this person isn't all that I am.

I know that bootdegrade is a role I play. I have no interest in 24/7, as I don't want to take that role on full time.

The bottom line, though, is that identity in a space like the internet is very fluid. Imagine I'm lying for a second; suppose those pictures aren't of me. Suppose I'm a completely different person, and these pics are just who I want to pretend I look like. So long as you and I don't intend on meeting in person, does it REALLY matter?

I think there's too much stress put on 'real' and 'not real.' If you're looking for a meeting in real life, then you may only be interested in talking to people who feel the same way (and hopefully are smart enough not to think that you'll be okay with them having lied to you for so long). But otherwise, what's it matter?

I don't care if the picture is you. Any picture you put up is one that you have chosen to represent the you that exists here. I'm cool with that.

I'm STILL not cool with joining other sites. But I can at least get down with assuming you are who you claim you are. My default is to believe, rather than suspect.

But what do I know? I'm not even real.
3/22/2010 9:29:02 AM
Today's examination of fetish/fantasy is brought to you by the letter G and the number 5.

What does that mean? It means I look at 5 things that start with G:
Gags, Gloves, Gas Masks, Glory Hole, and Gun Play.

It would not be hard to combine all of these: the Dom/me, wearing gloves that they use to guide the sub, uses a (fake) gun to 'force' the sub to work a glory hole, spending the rest of their time either in a gag or a gas mask.

But that's not important right now. Let me look at them from my own perspective, one by one:

First, gags. I love gags. I should cap that. I LOVE gags. There are so many different kinds of gags. You can use duct tape (rough with my beard), or stuff something in my mouth, use nylons, a ball gag, a ring gag, a spreader gag that forces my mouth open, a cock gag... I'm sure there are others. The point is, they're a fantastic and easy form of bondage. They take away one of the major sources of power for people: the ability to speak. There's no ability to make words, only sounds and whines: it's a bit dehumanizing and humiliating in that way. You have to try to express yourself a different way, where the Dom/me can still speak. So he/she has a LOT of power, and you don't.

Gloves: these are a texture fetish. I'll admit there's some fun to feel the clinical separation inherent in latex gloves, but for my money, I'm a big fan of leather gloves. You get the texture, the smell, even the taste. I also like fingerless gloves, because they look badass and dangerous, like you might just start punching me. Which would be okay.

Gas Masks: This combines the fun of a gag, a hood, and even breath play. You can't tell who it is under the gas mask, which would allow for a bit of protection when doing some kind of public service. The sound of your breathing also, I imagine, cuts down on your ability to hear, and it makes it harder for you to be understood when you speak.

And, of course, if the tank runs out, you have no air. Those things form an air tight seal by necessity. So there can be some breath play (which you should be VERY careful with... far better to not have a tank, just a tube you can cover with your hand, or have the sub's hands free so they can take off the mask. Breath play is always dangerous, and 'we were having sex' is not a viable defense for murder)

Glory Hole: god, what a hot idea. You take a wall with a little hole in it. On one side, a person sticks a part of their body through. Traditionally, the man sticks his cock through the hole. On the other side, someone uses that cock to either have sex, or gives the person a blow job. But neither person knows who the other is. Maybe your cock is getting sucked by a gorgeous eighteen year old girl. Maybe it's being sucked by an ugly forty-eight year old man with a glandular weight problem. You never know.

For me, I'd be on the inside. I wouldn't be the one sticking my cock through the hole. I'd be the one... servicing.

But you can't really do this kind of thing without a lot of prep work. There's a lot of worry about disease, potentially pregnancy (with no clue who the father is), that sort of thing. So if I ever did it, I imagine my Dom/me would have to pre-screen everyone who came by, to make sure there were no diseases. Or there could be protection... but that ruins the fantasy, I think.

Last but not least: gun play. This is a total power issue. One person uses a gun to take power from the other. You threaten to shoot me if I don't do EXACTLY what you say. Then you make me do all kinds of humiliating things. I pretend to be really scared of the gun, you pretend the gun is real (please, for the love of god, do NOT use a real gun for this). I imagine it working best with a physically small and maybe even fragile Dom/me with a big sub. So for me, it would probably have to be some 5 foot nothing tiny asian girl.

This is also a great way to explain domination when one person is physically incapacitated (there's no reason the handicapped can't still be kinky).

My final thoughts: I love gags. Gas masks sound awesome, but I've never tried them. Gloves are okay. Glory holes are a hot fantasy. Gun play might be fun, but is unnecessary for me.
3/15/2010 8:11:36 PM
Is submission sexy?

For some, yeah. Maybe the better question would be: why are all the 'sexy' poses so submissive?

I'm submissive myself, and when a girl is standing with her hands on her hips and her feet spread shoulder width apart, boots tight around her ankle and just barely enough skin visible to make me wonder, I think THAT is sexy.

But when a girl is on all fours and looking over her shoulder at me? You're barking up the wrong tree, honey. I'm not interested in the girl laying on her back offering me an opportunity to perform a gynecological exam. I'm not qualified, and I don't think that's sexy.

I think it's sexy when a woman looks POWERFUL. When she's sitting in a chair, legs crossed, shoe hanging off her foot while she smokes a cigarette and looks at me with a gentle smirk, THAT is hot. Hands behind her back, on her knees? not hot. To me.

The reason I bring this up is because of all the 'Dominant' scams on the site. I'm getting really good at spotting them. I saw one a few minutes ago that had a picture of a famous woman. But most of the ones I see, the 'dominant women,' are using the other definition of sexy. I don't think of you as a Dominant if I see you laying on your stomach, ass in the air, just begging to be violated. That suggests submission. I can't get behind that (if you'll pardon the pun).

3/11/2010 2:27:30 PM
One of my hobbies is trying to guess the orientation of famous people. A lot of people do this in the gay/straight style, but I like to do it from a bdsm point of view.

Back when the bubble gum pop thing was big, I thought it was interesting comparing Brittney Spears to Christina Aguilara. Brittney was all sub, all the time; you can tell from the song titles/lyrics ("hit me baby one more time," slave," etc), and you could see it in the videos.

Christina on the other hand was very much a Domme. A Genie in a bottle, Dirrty. Look at her videos; she was a badass chick, the one in control. Even the way she danced.

Not as much as Madonna, of course. And if you ever watch that video with her and Brittney, you can REALLY see it. Brittney is running away, but looking to be caught. Madonna is casually walking, know she'll catch her prey. And when she does, she turns her away. Because SHE is in control, not Brittney.

The reason I bring this up is that I've been listening to the songs of Lady Gaga and Brittney's new stuff... and Brittney has changed. As she got older, I guess it makes some sense. She finally got some measure of freedom from the very structured life that she had been forced into for years. And she learned that she could be "the ring leader." That she could "call the shots." She now recognizes players, and not everyone can handle her. She's become a domme.

Well, she's become a switch. But maybe she'll never go back to submission. It's interesting.

Lady Gaga, on the other hand... Well, much as I hate to admit it, she's a sub. She says that when you're talking about love, "if it doesn't hurt it isn't fun."

I don't know. Considering how much I get confronted with this crap, I had to find some way to make it interesting.

So who is dominant in the world of music? Shirley Manson, Madonna, Christina. Who's a switch? Brittney, Nelly Fortado. And who's a sub? Gaga. And Trent Reznor.
3/10/2010 2:10:45 PM
Well damn. I was writing a fantasy, and I lost it.

What I was writing about was stuff that starts with T: Tattoos, trampling, and toilet. I talked about how sexy tattoos can be, and how I understand the people advertising for doormats. I'd want to do more than just have them wipe off on me, but I get it. I really do.

So let me see if I can do this again. A fantasy of three Ts.

<fantasy>
The ivy tattoo around her wrist seems like it's growing around the pipe she's holding on to. It's helping her balance, but not supporting much weight. Most of her weight is on my thighs right now.

She twists, grinding the heel of her boot into my skin. The treads pull at my skin, and it feels like something is going to tear. I'd say something, but right now I can't. My mouth is being held open by a gag, so all I can really do is whimper.

Which is just fine by her. She smiles at me, light glinting off the piercing in her lip, and she lifts one of her feet, bringing it up to my nose so I can smell the leather. I want to lick it, but I can't get my tongue out there. And she knows it.

All I can do is smell the leather and look at the handcuffs tattooed on her thigh. She laughs, gives my chin a quick little kick, and starts to get herself ready.

I can't believe I agreed to this. It's torture not being able to say anything, not being able to use my tongue. I feel so helpless lying here, knowing she could easily press one of her feet on my throat, and there's nothing I could do. The rope around my wrists isn't tight enough to dig into my skin, but it isn't loose enough for me to get out either.

I'm tied up, so that I can't stop her. She knows it. That's why she's teasing me.

For a second, she steps off, squatting over my face so I can see the tattoo on the small of her back, so that I wonder if she's going to do THAT. Her ass tenses, and I think she might. But then she stands. She stands and she laughs at me.

"You really are pathetic," she says. Then she puts one foot on my chest and steps back up. I can barely breathe, and I don't care. She grinds her toe into my chest this time, and I whimper again.

Then she laughs. She takes aim. It's hard for a girl to do it standing up. The first splashes hit me in the face, almost directly in my right eye. She laughs.

She isn't embarrassed. She just keeps pissing, moving herself around and grinding her feet into me until the stream goes right where she wants it. Not in my eye, not on my neck, not in my hair. Eventually, she gets it where it's meant to go.

Right in my mouth.

</fantasy>

Not bad, I guess. Hard to say though. Anyone want to share their thoughts?
3/10/2010 2:01:39 PM
For today's random fetish, we look under the letter T... lots of good stuff there. Toilet play, total power exchange, trampling, toys, tens, taboo, tattoo... the list goes on and on.

Well, I've talked about taboo in fantasies before. Sometimes, the best thing a fantasy can be is taboo. The farther out there, the hotter it is. And that's fine for a fantasy.

I've also talked about toilet play, at least a little. And I'm not sure that TPE is really possible; certainly, it's not for me.

What's my thing with tattoos? Well, I think tattoos are hot. I have none myself, and may never get one, but I think they're very sexy. Be they tramp stamps, star signs on the inner wrist, religious in nature, or even stupid comic book stuff, I think they're hot. They demonstrate a certain capacity for pain, a commitment to an artistic ideal, and, let's face it, they're just sexy. So I want to run my tongue (another T word) over them, see if I can feel the ink. I like to watch them move, watch the muscles ripple underneath.

And trampling? Well, it's like boots. Boots are hot. Getting kicked by boots is hot. Getting trampled by them is hot too. I love to have someone step on me. I've seen people advertise wanting a doormat, and I can understand the appeal. I'd want to lick them clean as well, but I can totally understand the trampling side of it.

Of course, you have to be safe. Bad idea to put the full weight on someone, don't step on their hands or wrists, and don't step directly on the spine. But that leaves a whole lot of room out there to be stepped on.

Could I combine all of these? Sure.

Let me see if I can paint a picture.



I watch the cherry blossoms on her chest move every time she breathes, and I suck the breath into my lungs when she steps up onto my legs. It's hard for her to balance, but she's hanging on to a pipe above her. I can see the ivy tattoo curl up her arm, like it's growing up around the pipe too.

She looks at me with a smirk, adjusts herself, grinding into my skin. "open up," she says, as if I have a choice. With this gag, I couldn't close my mouth if I wanted to.

She giggles, and I watch between her legs. It begins as a trickle, snaking its way down her leg. Then it becomes a stream, hitting me on the chest.

She adjusts her balance and her aim, sending new jolts of pain through me as the stream comes closer and closer to my mouth.

She hits my face, getting some in my eye, but then, finally, she finds the right position, and my mouth starts to fill up with her urine. I swallow as best I can, but it does overflow a bit.

She finally finishes, looks down at me, and laughs again. "You are disgusting," she says. She steps off me. "Go clean yourself off, you filthy little toilet."

</fantasy>


3/9/2010 2:03:49 PM
Not sure what to write, so it's time to pull out a random fetish and see if it applies to me; if it does, what would my fantasy be?

Today's fantasy is brought to you by the letter 'E'; Let's see....
Enemas? Electrical Play? Eye Contact Restriction?

I've got nothing against any of those. Eye contact restrictions are fun, but only as a part of the play. I don't think that's enough by itself. I've never done electrical play. Enemas are messy. Still.

<fantasy>
When I first got there, she gave me an enema. She said it was to clean me out. But once I'd emptied, she decided to put another one in. I protested that I was clean already, and she slapped me across the face. I'm to keep my eyes down, she told me. And not to ask questions.

So I accepted the second enema. And I didn't argue when she put the plug deep into my ass to keep it there. I didn't argue when she pulled the rubber shorts up to keep the plug in. I wanted to complain when it started cramping, but she told me I wasn't allowed to speak. So I didn't.

It's been an hour now. I can't stand up straight. Well, I wouldn't be able to, if I weren't hanging by my wrists. The bonds stop my hands from moving, and while it hurts my shoulders, it's not enough to distract me from the other pain.

She laughs at me when she sees how uncomfortable I am.

"Should I punch you in the stomach?" she asks. "It might make your stomach burst. Would you like that?"

I keep my eyes down. If I look at her, she might do it. And I know that might kill me.  She laughs, that great sadistic laugh of hers. It tells me that she's enjoying herself, that she can't believe I let her do this to me, and that she thinks I'm pathetic.


Another hour, and the pain is starting to let up. My stomach is absorbing the water, and whatever else she put into it. People can get drunk that way, or so I'm told.

A few minutes ago, she started shaving hair from patches of my body. Everytime she shaved down to the skin, she attached a little pad with a wire on it.

I don't know what it's for. But I have an idea. And it makes me whimper.

But that makes her laugh again. And it doesn't slow her down.

"I can't believe you wanted me to do this," she says. "When we started talking electric play, I thought you wanted me to just taser you and kidnap you." she shakes her head. "This is going to be so much more fun.

She shows me a little control box with a dial. It goes up to eleven. No, wait. It goes to ten. The eleven is just painted on. That's cute.

The smile is wiped off my face when she turns the dial up to five. Every muscle in my body rips itself tight. If I wasn't wearing the rubber pants, that plug would have shot out of me. As it stands, I don't know if I can keep it in or not.

She turns it down to zero, and I gasp, not realizing I hadn't been able to breathe. Then she puts it back up, but only to one.

It's a gentle tingle. Not painful. Not pleasurable. Just odd. I twitch a little. She giggles.

"That's not so bad, is it?" she asks.

I shake my head. "You could handle that for a while, couldn't you?"

Then she turns it up to two. Uncomfortable, but not bad. "Okay," she says. You just hang out and enjoy that. I'll be back in an hour." Then she looks meaningfully down at my ass. "And if you make a mess, you're going to lick it clean."

Then she rubs a hand over my crotch and laughs again.

The pain is starting to build. And I can feel something dripping down my leg.

It's going to be a long hour.

</fantasy>



Any thoughts? Give me a letter, or a fetish, and we'll see what I can come up with.
3/8/2010 4:19:30 PM
Some quick book keeping things:

1. If you want to talk to me, please say more than just 'nice profile.' Also, it helps if you actually LOOK at my profile.

2. I take requests. Basically, I'm willing to trade free porn for inspiration. If you want to read about one of my fantasies, I'll write it. I just need ideas.

3. I do not want to leave my wife. I don't know how many times I have to say that. I love her, I have no intention of leaving her, nor do I want to cheat on her. She knows I'm here, and has access to everything.

4. That's it.
3/8/2010 8:52:26 AM
Everyone has their own kinks. And who am I to judge?

I've seen a whole lot lately of people accusing one another of being 'fake' or of not being a 'true' submissive/dominant/whatever based on what that person is interested in. This is not a new phenomena, but it saddens me.

If I can get meta for just a second... I'd like to remind everyone that we are a subculture. We are a group that is looked down upon, that is marginalized and seen as 'other'; even outside of the simple sexual preferences, those of us who identify as 'kinky' are different. And unlike being simply queer, we can't exactly come out of the closet.

If you are gay, you can go in public with your partner, and just by virtue of being in public together, proclaim your sexuality. And that is, at least to an extent, acceptable. But you can't do that as a leather fetishist without crossing a certain line. What happens in my bedroom is not the world's concern. I don't want everyone to know that I like to wear a collar and chains. So I can't 'come out.'

But the fact remains, I am in a marginalized group. And so are you.

Knowing this is so, why are we trying to further marginalize each other? You are in the minority, and even being in the majority of the minority doesn't change that. You don't have the right to tell someone what they can and can't do, what they have to believe, or how they have to act.

I can tell people what I think, and what turns me on, but that's all. Anything that is posted in this journal is just MY opinions; I won't judge you for yours even if you judge me for mine.

So when I say that I don't get financial domination, or don't think 24/7 can actually work, I mean it with the caveat of "for me, in my life." I can't do 24/7. You may be able to. And more power to you.

I also can't really get behind the idea of non-consensual sex of any kind (including pedophilia and bestiality). I CAN understand the fantasies, but I can't condone them. Mostly, though, it's a legal issue. I won't judge you for your desires or your fantasies.

I can understand the fantasy of pedophilia, even if I don't share it. Same with bestiality. In fact, the primary reason I can't imagine bestiality myself is that I LOVE dogs. Dogs are fantastic. But I don't want to 'love' dogs. It's a pure relationship for me, and I don't want to complicate it.

But I digress.

There is NOTHING that qualifies you as a "true" dominant or submissive, unless you allow it to. Am I a "true" submissive? Yes, I think so. But I define that in the sense that I am 100% submissive. I have tried to switch, and it made me uncomfortable and physically sick to my stomach. I WISH I could switch, but I just simply CAN'T. So I'm "truly" submissive. But that isn't a status symbol any more than being 'only into men' would be.

It doesn't mean that I am submissive to everyone. Anyone who knows me will assure you that I am not. All it means is that IF I play with someone, it will always be as the submissive. And that I always want to be the bottom of the totem pole.

But that's not the same thing.


My point is this: please don't marginalize each other. No one is perfect, no one has the exact same kinks as you, and being different is not the same as being wrong.

Today's public service announcement is brought to you by the number 14 and the letter Q.
3/4/2010 1:26:20 PM
What is it about fantasies?

I have a friend who lives the kind of life most of us need to show ID just to rent movies about. She once told me that she doesn't really have fantasies anymore; she just makes phone calls. Whatever she wants to try, she tries.

At first, I was envious of this lifestyle. I know it's not one I could live, but the idea of it was pretty appealing. But then I thought about it: what if everything I ever fantasized about ACTUALLY happened?

Well, aside from being in jail, horribly diseased, and probably dead... No, I don't think I'd want them to come true even then.

Not everyone sees 'fantasy' the same way I do. I see it as a way for the mind to experiment, to try things that it would NEVER want to do in real life. There isn't a desire to actually do it, just the desire to follow the imagination and see what it comes up with, but to do so with absolutely security. I don't need to worry about the aftercare when nothing actually happened. I also don't need to worry about being excommunicated, jailed, or pointed at in horror by random passers by.

I let my mind wander in fantasy. When I get going, I go places I don't want to go in real life. Do I really want to end up at a glory hole? No, I don't think so. But I like the fantasy.

I think that's healthy: I think it's okay to have fantasies that aren't where you want to go, that are explicitly beyond your limits. That's how we know what our limits are. I like to be able to fantasize about receiving such a severe beating that bones break, that blood flows, that I lose consciousness. But I would never consent to that happening in real life. I don't want to be INJURED. But the fantasy? That's just fine.

What you think is okay.

Whatever you think. That's something I've always felt. If you think about murdering someone, that's okay... as long as you don't DO it. If you have sexual thoughts about children, animals, family members, corpses, whatever; that's okay. Sometimes your mind conjures these ideas BECAUSE it isn't interested in them, and wants to explore why.

I think you should be able to imagine doing things that don't come CLOSE to Safe, Sane, or Consensual. As long as it's just imagination. Don't feel guilty about it; it's okay to have those thoughts. We are not defined by what we imagine; we're defined by what we DO.

So no, I don't condone pedophilia, bestiality, necrophilia, or incest. I think that doing any of those is a bad idea. But I think that fantasizing about them is just fine. And feel free to adjust some stuff. Maybe you like the idea of incest, but can't imagine members of your own family. Fine. Why not a fantasy of being someone else, and imagine his/her family? Now you can have your fun, and no one gets hurt.

The mind is the most erotic sense organ we have. And within the mind, there are no limits. You're not stuck in your own body, at your own age, own gender, or even your own SPECIES. Imagine away, let it soar, be and do whatever you fancy. And do some things you don't fancy, so that you understand WHY you don't fancy them.

I'll be the first to admit it: I often fantasize about things I don't want to do. And sometimes, my mind disturbs me. And I have to do aftercare --yes, aftercare after masturbation. That sounds so odd. But sometimes, it's necessary. I need to remind myself that I'm not a bad person, just because I tried to imagine what it might be like to do something that I would never do in real life. I'm still a good person, I didn't actually DO anything, and the fact that I was turned on just means that my mind was stimulated. It doesn't mean I want to be raped by an eight foot tall transvestite with a pineapple strapon. (or whatever).

My point is this: Don't get down on yourself for what you imagine. The more creative you are, the farther you'll go. But that's okay; it's just a fantasy.
3/3/2010 3:36:05 PM
(apparently, this capitalization thing that's going around has hit me too. i apologize for the lack of proper capitalization herein; it was correct when i wrote it.)

how do we process bdsm?


i think this is a question we all need to ask ourselves, and ask ourselves many times. some people seem to think that once a scene is over, that's it, and they can walk away and all is well. but that just isn't true.

i'm thinking particularly of a humiliation scene. if the woman i love calls me a pathetic piece of shit, a worm not worthy of a woman, a fag who is too scared to admit that he doesn't like girls... well, afterwards, i want her to reassure me that she doesn't actually feel that way. i need aftercare.

and it's not just humiliation that needs aftercare. a good whipping sometimes needs to be followed with gentle back rubbing. the sub needs to be told that they are worthwhile, that they are loved, and that they are safe.

but that's what the dom does. what about the sub? what's our job after the scene is over?

the answer for me used to be "freak out." when i first started engaging in bdsm play, i was 18, i was more or less innocent, and i was playing with a girl who felt much more for me than i felt for her. i would freak out, thinking i was a bad person for wanting the things that she did to me, and even worse still because i was using her infatuation with me to get what i wanted.

now, i don't really think i was using her. she knew the score, and usually spent several days/hours before we played convincing me that it was okay, that she wouldn't take it the wrong way, etc. and she knew that afterward, i would avoid her for a few days.

why was i avoiding her? partially because i didn't know what i was doing or how to deal with it. because i was a kid, and i was stupid. but mostly it's because i was processing. i was coming to grips with what i had done, with what she had done to me, and trying to put my view of the world back together.



i've since gotten better at this. not just faster, but more specific. i now know that it's okay to feel pleasure from pain; it's not that i'm 'wired wrong'; it's that my brain knows to release endorphins. and it's okay that i like giving up power. and it doesn't mean that she (or, i suppose, he) thinks less of me as a person, or that there's a new dynamic to our relationship.

aftercare has to go both ways. when you play, you set up very different standards for your relationship. one of you is placed on a pedestal, one of you ground into the mud. when it's over, you need to re-establish equality.

what kind of aftercare does a dom/me need? well, it might help to reassure them that there are no 'hard feelings,' no grudges, nothing like that. that it's okay that she kicked me until my ribs were bruised; i still love her. i don't think she's going to abuse me in our regular life. it's okay that she's called me names: i don't think she means them. if i'm unsure, then she can reassure me. we take care of each other.

that, i think, is how a healthy relationship works. you accept that both of you are neurotic messes, and you work to deal with one another's neuroses.

how does this apply in 24/7 relationships? i'm not sure. i'm not even sure it does. then again, i'm not sure that there really is such a thing as a true 24/7 relationship. but that's a topic for a whole other entry. one i may never make.
3/2/2010 7:31:19 PM
I'm trying to get myself back into the habit of regular writing. As part of that, I'm going to try to journal here more frequently. If anyone wants to hear my views on any particular subject, drop me a line. Otherwise, I'll just go with whatever strikes my fancy.

Today, what strikes my fancy is sensory deprivation.  It's used in relaxation sometimes. There's a great Simpsons episode about it. Supposedly, it can cause hallucinations.

But that kind of sense dep isn't what we expect when we talk bdsm. To my mind, this kind of sensory deprivation would involve ear plugs, a blind fold, and maybe, in the best of circumstances, enough rope not to be able to tell which way is up. The idea is to cut off as many senses as possible not to allow the mind to wander (as Lisa's did in that Simpsons episode), but rather to heighten focus on one of the other senses. In most cases, I would imagine, the sense of touch.

If the sub can't see, can't hear, then he has no idea what is about to happen to him. All he can do is pay very close attention to the three senses that are left to him: taste, smell, and touch. Smell might give a few hints--lubrication has a very specific smell, as do leather, latex, rubber, and so on. But this can be covered with a scented candle (there are candles that smell like leather, after all) or some incense.

Even less likely is taste going to help. If you're tied up, blind and deaf, anything being put in your mouth is there on purpose; it's only going to tell you what your Dom wants you to know. Maybe it's completely unrelated to what's going to happen, just to keep you confused.

No, the only thing you can trust is touch. And, knowing that, you push your awareness to your skin. You pay really close attention to whatever you can. They say when you lose one sense, your others get heightened. That's not true; you just pay closer attention. Like the way you're paying close attention to your sense of touch.

Of course, that's exactly what your sadist Dom wants. They want you paying close attention, because the more focused you are on the sense of touch, the more pain you're going to feel. It's more pain, less damage; that is, you can get more pain, more reaction, doing less activity.

For the Sadist, that's win-win. No need for a whole ice cube. One drop of cold water could do it. Then one drop of wax. A dull butter knife, held the right way and drawn across sensitive skin, could just as easily be a razor blade. And maybe that slap is the only one, maybe it's the first of many. No idea how far back the crop is going to be raised before it snaps back.

When you can't see or hear, the Sadist gets a whole new tool: your fear. Some would argue that fear comes to the forefront better when you can see what's about to happen. But I beg to differ.

Fear is about the unknown. The less you know, the better. Maybe they'll show you the tools they MIGHT use before the blindfold goes on. Maybe not.

But it's like when torturing someone for information. The longer you let their imagination do the work, the better. You'll talk. And you'll talk sooner if they show you a few nasty instruments and let you just sit there and stare at them. Or if they blindfold you and run them across your skin.

Fear is a powerful thing. It gets reactions. And, often, that's what the sadist wants. She wants your reactions.

So sensory deprivation, I would think, will lead to some great reactions.



Oh, on a side note: if you decide to blindfold, use ear plugs, AND gag the submissive, make sure you put a cloth in their hand, preferably one brightly colored, so that if they need to call their safe word, they can just drop the cloth. Stay safe.
3/1/2010 6:44:37 PM
Is financial domination just a scam?

I've seen a good number of people advertising for financial domination, and I have to say, it has gotten me wondering. Could such a thing actually work, or is it just a scam, people taking advantage of gullible submissives for their own financial gain?

To answer that question, I think the best strategy is to try to develop a way that it COULD work. That is, in what situation would there be financial domination without anyone being taken advantage of?

Well, it seems to me like the major thing that matters with the fantasy of financial domination is the loss of control, the humiliation of it. Humiliation I can identify with.

So imagine a situation. Person A, we'll call him Steve, submits to Person B, who we'll call Donna. Donna decides to financially dominate Steve. When they go on dates, Donna is the only one to carry money. Steve gives her his money ahead of time (either to pay for everything in a traditional man-pays style, or going dutch). But she does the actual paying.

For more extensive financial domination, Donna tells Steve what to do with his money. He is, of course, allowed to pay for the essentials (rent, heat, etc), but she may decide his budget for other things. She may decide, for example, that Steve can only spend $10 a day on food, or require that he not have any extraneous expenses (ie, no cable, no internet, nothing). Steve takes the money that he would be spending on these things and puts it in a bank account, where he can have money to purchase gifts for Donna if he wants, or just to pay for their dates.

The important aspect here is that while Donna can tell Steve what to do with his money, she does not actually get access to it. Steve can spoil her, lavishing gifts upon her, if he so wishes. But that's up to him. She cannot possibly clean out his accounts, steal his identity, or anything like that. Instead, she simply takes control over that part of his life, imposing either limitations or expectations (like expecting him to buy a new wardrobe from a specific store, for example).

This, I think, could work. It could be successful, consensual fantasy play. Financial domination, but without the interplay of potential scamming.

That said, would I be interested in such a thing? No. But then, I'm married, and so my finances aren't entirely up to me anyway; those decisions would affect my wife as well. Still, I don't think I'd enjoy someone else having that control.

At the end of the day, do I think it's a scam? most of the time, yes. But I think there is a possibility that it could be serious.
8/30/2009 5:52:17 PM
Is there a point to advertising for a non-consensual slave? I mean, if someone writes to you and says they are interested, doesn't that make them consensual?

That's the problem with fantasy and reality. If you want to have (or be) a slave with no rights and without consent, you can't advertise for it. And you can't really get it. I mean, real slavery isn't legal.

I just like the paradox of advertising for a non-consensual partner.
8/27/2009 6:37:13 PM
I'm starting to wonder if anyone will want to get to know me without ulterior motives. It seems like any time I start to talk to someone, it fizzles out as soon as it becomes clear I am serious, or as soon as it becomes clear that I don't want to join another site.

It's getting very frustrating.
8/27/2009 5:52:49 PM
Puppy/Pony fantasy
I should start off saying that I've never done any puppy or pony play. I am curious about it, even interested. But that's all.

In my fantasy, I am taken as someone's puppy. That means that as soon as I arrive, I am stripped down to nothing, given a collar and a muzzle or gag, a leash, a butt plug tail, and pads for my knees and mitts for my hands. When I am allowed to eat, it will be dog food, from a bowl on the floor. When I sleep at night, it'll be in a cage. And when I have to use the bathroom, it'll be outside.
Of course, as a human puppy there would be some things that normal puppies don't do. Like licking boots. Or sucking cock. Or getting fucked. But I'd still live in a cage, even though my master abuses me, even though I am just a toy for his amusement.

Pony play, on the other hand.. well, here I see a lot more equipment. A longer tail in the plug, a harness with stirrups hanging at my side. My hands cuffed together to a ring on my posture collar. Those hands might be in mitts, I'm not sure. But I know there would be a bit in my mouth, along with reigns.
On my feet would be long leather boots, tipping off in hooves. I'd be pranced around like a horse, treated like one as much as possible.
I'm not sure there would be anything sexual involved here.

I'm thinking the real fun in all this is the gear. all that bondage, all that leather, all that helplessness. I can dig that.
8/24/2009 12:50:54 PM
Two things:
1. New pictures of me. These are the most recent (taken August 23 2009).

2. If you want me to join another site for any reason, even if you want to claim that it's 'free,' please don't waste either of our time. I'm not interested.
8/22/2009 7:13:27 PM
Rennaisance faires:

You may notice in my profile that I said that I dislike Rennaisance faires. Well, I went to a one today, hoping my old hatred would be dulled with time.

Nope. Still hate them.
8/21/2009 6:26:18 PM
Just to be clear as far as the journal goes: I do take requests. Want to hear about a fantasy, or want more detail? Ask, and I will try to provide.
8/21/2009 6:25:45 PM
Let me tell you another of my fantasies. It's a simple one, catering to my primary fetish: a boot party.

The way it works is that there's a party, held by my Dom/me. It's a normal party, but everyone invited knows the score and is asked to bring the boots they most want cleaned.

They have their party. They play party games, watch movies, chat, drink wine, whatever. While they do this, I crawl around the room, licking one pair of boots after another, cleaning them with my tongue. I'd essentially be ignored otherwise, with attention paid only when someone needs to move their feet so I can get at the soles.

There are variations to this fantasy. Sometimes, it's a small party, and once the boots are all cleaned, I retire to a back room. One by one, whoever wants to comes in and uses me however they see fit.

Other times, it's more than just a boot party. Some times, there are water sports involved, and in addition to being the boot cleaner, I am also used as the urinal. It's possible to have a party where that is my only role, bound in the corner with some kind of gag holding my mouth open.

But that goes into toilet fantasies, and while those are good fun, they're probably a topic for another time.
8/10/2009 10:55:43 PM
I'm starting to wonder if there are any dominants (of any race or gender) who are actually interested in getting to know me. It seems like they all want me to join some other website. Even ones that I'm pretty sure are not bots.

I'm open to talking to people. Dom or sub, male or female. But please, actually want to talk to me. I'm not here for sales pitches.
8/8/2009 11:15:28 PM
Incidentally, if anyone is curious, I can almost always tell whether someone is Dom/sub/switch by watching them role play (preferably in a LARP situation), or sometimes just by talking to them. There are tells for everything.
8/8/2009 11:14:37 PM
bootdegrade's theory of boots as a personality test.

So I was in college, sitting in a room and talking to a bunch of people, when something occurred to me.

I'm an observant person. That's not what occurred to me. What occurred to me was the different states everyone's boots were in. There were four of us, all wearing black Doc Martens. But they were incredibly different.

One person had shiny boots that were unlaced. Another had shiny boots that were tightly laced. I had dull boots that were tightly laced. And then there was someone with dull boots that were unlaced.

And I realized that I could tell a lot about people based on how they wear their boots on a regular basis. The laces represent how you feel about yourself (since you have to tie your own shoes), and the shine represents how you feel about others (since you picked out shiny or dull based on your own preference).

If your shoes are laced tightly, it means you want to have control over yourself. You feel like your life is your own, and you have decent self confidence.

If they are loose, you feel a bit out of control, and are looking for someone to come and put you together. You want a significant other who will take care of you.

If they are shiny, it means you want to control other people. The shine draws their attention to your boots, which necessitates them looking down and working their way back up. A very submissive gesture.

If they're dull, you don't want to control other people. Your shoes disappear in a crowd, don't draw too much attention.

I since have added a few things: If your boots are falling apart, but you still wear them (duct tape anyone?) it means you are very sentimental and dedicated. If they have scuff marks on them, it means you really don't want to be in control, because you're letting your boots get even more torn down, more beaten. If, on the other hand, they are shiny, polished, and look new, then you're trying to draw attention: you're taking control.

So what does this mean for the four of us in that room?

Tight laces, dull boots (me): wants to control himself, but no one else. Wants someone to push him, test his limits.

Tight laces, shiny boots: Feels strong and powerful, wants everyone to know it. She wants to take control. (had this girl not been so innocent, I totally would have asked her out.)

Loose laces, shiny boots: wants to control other people, but wants to be taken care of too. In bdsm terms, wants a slave who will cater to her every whim, who will do chores and put her life together.

Loose laces, dull boots: needs help getting control over his own life, but doesn't want to control anyone else. Likely not into bdsm, but if he were, he'd probably be a good candidate for a 24/7 relationship.

Anyway, that's just a theory. But I wanted to post more in my journal in case anyone reads it.
8/8/2009 11:04:49 PM
I was recently asked what it is that I like about boots. It's a huge question. One that involves lots of meandering. So I figured I'd post it here.

It's a fetish. That's the long and short of it. I don't know why it's a fetish, but it is. All my life, when a girl (or guy) has been wearing boots, it has instantly made them more attractive to me. Boots are almost more important than any other feature (which is weird, since boots can be changed so easily).

I first recall it becoming an issue in high school. There was a girl that I found out liked me. I liked the idea of her liking me, but I just couldn't be attracted to her. Then she came in to school one day wearing Mudd jeans (and I would perform many a sexual favor for the inventor of THOSE) and doc marten boots.

And I couldn't get her out of my head. She wore docs a lot, and when she wasn't, she had these black witches boots that were just as enticing.

Ever since, I've noticed that I'm more likely to hit on a girl in boots, more likely to do things for people in boots, and more likely to enjoy sex when boots are somehow involved. It's not a textbook fetish: I can get off just as easily without boots being present. But they make it all a bit hotter.

But what is it about boots that I like? It's a lot of things.

For one, it's the smell. The smell of leather. I have to get good and close for that, but that's okay. I also like the taste, and to lick the boots, I have to be close enough to smell them.

I like the way they feel against my skin, whether it be my hand, my sides, my throat, or my face. I like the shape they give to the foot. I like the certain additional level of 'badass' that they lend people. I like the treads on the sole, the power that boots have. I like the way the toe sticks out from under a good pair of jeans.

People walk differently when wearing boots. Watch for a bit, you'll see what I mean.

That reminds me of a theory I have about boots. But that should be a separate post.
8/2/2009 7:17:04 PM
Something has been bothering me lately. Twice in the last week I've been contacted by people who want me to join this other site. The other site is not at all secure, but does require credit card information. Both of these people, I'm convinced, were either following a script or were bots. Their words were identical, they ignored my responses, and they kept insisting I join this other profile.

Then I had someone ask if I would buy him gifts or something like that.

I'm not into financial domination. Aside from the fact that I feel like it's just a con, I don't actually HAVE any money to steal. If someone took my credit card, they'd find it will go over the limit if they use it to buy a stick of gum.

I'm a student. A graduate student, but still a student. I don't have money. I'm not looking for it from others, and I certainly am neither looking for nor able to provide it for others.
7/31/2009 9:45:35 PM
I have a hypnosis fantasy.
That's a total misnomer. I actually have a lot of hypnosis fantasies. But there's just one I'm planning on talking about right now. Before I do, let me state that this is a FANTASY, and not something I actually want to do.

In my fantasy, I get put under and am forced to do whatever I'm told (sexually). I become basically a mindless fuckdoll. I know what's happening, and I usually remember what happened afterwards, but I have no control nor desire for control while I'm under. Everything just seems right. While under, someone could tell me to tread water in their septic tank while sucking off their dog, and I'd do it, thinking it was a perfectly fine thing to do. (which, by the way, is not. But this is a fantasy, so it doesn't matter).

Anyway, this particular state is triggered by the utterance of a single word. When that word is spoken, I zone out and fall immediately into the trance, until the word is spoken again (by the same person).

I go into this trusting my hypnotists, believing they won't do anything bad. But they tell the code word to some friends of theirs. And the word works no matter WHO says it. Only when someone else says it, I have no memory of what I did.

So every once in a while, I pick up my phone. I say "Hello?" and the next thing I know, I'm in the shower, cleaning myself up. Time has passed, and maybe I have a weird taste in my mouth, or cum dripping down my leg.

Sometimes, I get DVDs in the mail. There's no return address, not even a stamp; they're just left at my house. On the DVDs, I watch myself do horrible and incredibly degrading things. And every time, I wonder what else I had done. And every time, I wondered about the time that someone says my code word, and then something happens to them, so they can't say it again.

Ever.
ChokeMe777