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 sissymaid65
Pan Transgender Submissive, 52, New York 
A sissy slave looking to be trained and to serve. Looking forward to hearing from others. It could be part time or full time. Thank You for reading my profile.


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Submissive Male, 35
 Eastpointe, Michigan
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Since I seem to get the same questions over and over I will answer them here and save me and anyone asking time and effort: Q: Would you consider a male slave?/Do you ever play with a male sub? A: Not really. My style of BDSM is very sexual and since males doesn't attract me sexually I wouldn't enjoy a male slave. I might consider a male slave as part of a submissive couple, but then again he couldn't expect much sexual interaction between him and me. Q: Would you consider a CD/TV/Sissy as your slave? A: I might consider it if you are part of a couple where the other party is a sub female, or if you are very feminine, very young and very submissive. Q: Would you train my wife if I send her to you for a limited time and send me photos and films of you training and using her? A: Yes I would if you really send her AND if she is in on it. The problem with the couples and men asking for this is they disappear and erase their profile after 20 - 30 messages and sometimes the same number of mails. Most probably they were roleplaying and there was no wife OR she wasn't in on it and they din't dare to suggest it to her, or if they did she wouldn't play along. Q: Would you train me on-line?/Would you claim me as your on-line slave? A: Probably not. I used to say no way, but during the pandemic I did have a few sexual relationships with submissive girls in several countries using telephone and/or various chat apps. We shared our dirty fantasies, we shared orgasms and I had some of them do painful and perverse things on themselves on my command. Now when the pandemic seems to be over and IRL contact is possible again on-line relationships seems less attractive. I live the lifestyle IRL and even an on-line slave girl takes time and effort. It's not a definite no, but you would have to be very special and very devoted for me to consider an on-line slave.
Everything He Has, Until There Is Only Me There is a particular music to it that I do not think you can understand until you have heard it in a room that belongs to you, with someone who has given you permission to play. The crack of a whip is not violence. It is punctuation. It is the sound of a sentence ending exactly where you intended it to end, clean and final and ringing in the air long after the moment has passed. It lands and the room holds its breath and in that held breath is everything: the authority that swung it, the surrender that received it, the particular electricity that lives in the space between the two. I feel it in my wrist first, then in my chest, then in the slow, satisfied warmth that moves through me when something has gone exactly as I intended. The skin that receives it blooms and I watch that blooming the way an artist watches a canvas accept color. With attention. With pleasure. With the specific pride of someone who knows their medium. The paddle is a different thing entirely. Where the whip sings, the paddle speaks in a lower register, a hard and resonant thud that you feel in your bones before your skin has finished deciding what happened. There is no elegance to it and that is precisely the point. It is blunt and declarative and it leaves no room for ambiguity. You know what it means when it lands. You knew what it meant before it landed. The sound of it fills a room completely, the way a bell fills a room, and the echo of it lives in the body for hours afterward, a reminder that resurfaces every time you shift your weight, every time you sit, every time your body moves against itself and finds me there, already waiting. The cane is my favorite. I will not pretend otherwise. There is a patience to the cane that suits me. The way you must take your time with it, must place it with intention, must understand that it is not a blunt instrument but a precise one. The marks it leaves are not accidents. They are calligraphy. Long and deliberate and raised against the skin like script, like something written, like the physical evidence of a conversation that only two people in the world were present for. I trace them afterward sometimes, these lines I have drawn on a body that belongs to me, and feel the same quiet satisfaction that I imagine a sculptor feels running a hand over finished stone. I made this. This is mine. You will carry this for days. And my own skin, where the energy moves through me like current, where the act of wielding produces its own particular heat, a tingling that lives in the palms and travels, that settles somewhere behind the sternum and glows. I glow. There is no more honest word for it. Something in me lights from the inside when I am in full possession of my own authority and someone is receiving it with everything they have. Neruda wrote that he wanted to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees, and I have always understood this not as tenderness alone but as inevitability, as the specific hunger of something that transforms whatever it touches simply by being what it is. That is what I want from you. Not your performance of devotion. Your actual transformation. I want to be the thing that happens to you, the season that changes the look of everything, so that you cannot see your own hands without thinking of what they are for, cannot move through a room without feeling the architecture of my expectations around you like a second skin. I want to wring you dry. Not cruelly. Completely. I want every thought that crosses your mind to carry my fingerprints on it, want you so thoroughly oriented toward me that pleasing me stops being a task and becomes simply the direction your nature moves, the way water moves downhill without deciding to. I want your first thought in the morning to be what She needs today and your last thought at night to be whether you gave it well enough. I want the obsession to be so total that it clarifies rather than confuses you, the way a religion clarifies the faithful, the way a vocation clarifies an artist who has finally stopped pretending they could have been anything else. Bring me what delights me. You know what it is because you have paid attention, because attention to me is the one thing I require above all others and you have either given it or you have not. By now we both know which. The particular tea, the correct temperature, in the cup that fits my hand the way I like. The flowers I mentioned once three months ago that I did not think anyone was listening to. The way a room should be before I enter it, the light and the temperature and the specific quiet that tells me someone has thought about me before I arrived. The knowledge, brought to me unprompted, of something I would want to know. The book left on my nightstand, the right one, chosen not from a list I gave you but from everything you have learned about the country inside my mind. Shower me in it until I glow. Charlotte Bronte understood this, I think, better than she is given credit for. Rochester did not love Jane Eyre the way men in novels usually love women, as a soft and worshipful thing, a pedestaling. He loved her with his whole difficult complicated weight, loved her as his equal and his better and his necessity, and she received it not with flutter but with the straight-backed dignity of a woman who has always known her own worth and was simply waiting for someone else to catch up. That is the love I recognize. Not the love that flatters but the love that sees, that is almost furious in its recognition, that cannot look away because looking away would require pretending the world is smaller than it is. Neruda again: I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees. Yes. And also: I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. The wanting in Neruda is never polite. It is consuming and precise and it names its object with the specificity of someone who has studied what they love until they know it better than it knows itself. That is the quality of devotion I am describing. Not the vague warmth of general affection. The focused, detailed, almost scholarly hunger of someone who has made another person their life's primary text. Learn me that well. Want me that specifically. Bring it to me not in grand declarations but in the ten thousand small and correct details that prove you have been paying attention every single day, that prove my preferences live in you the way music lives in a musician, available instantly, expressed naturally, impossible to separate from who you have become. And when I glow, and I will glow, when something in me settles into that incandescent satisfaction of being known and tended and
Be Available! Here is why I stress that potential online submissive men be single--meaning you should not be married or partnered or attached in any way:    I am not interested in competing for attention with this partner or spouse, nor am I interested in being their stand-in for a sexless relationship or otherwise help you sneak around behind their back. I do not intend to be held responsible should you be caught. And anyway, how can you truly be made mine if you belong to someone else?    Here is also why I make clear that you should be living alone--meaning you are the only one who resides in the house with no roommates or tenants (or partner or spouse):    If you feel the need to hide because you believe they would not understand, how can you freely behave in service to me? It would also mean never-ending waiting on my end until you were alone. Sure, you may have a job or may have an errand come up but at least when at home, you are able to freely behave according to your true nature (and my instructions).    Finally, here is why you being constantly busy or engaged will not work in my favor: Like the above two examples, it would hinder your availability and performance. I understand if you had a job that lasted from nine to five, but if the work (or any other activities) keeps you away for entire days, that does not make for satisfying service or effective communication (my tutelage and control). And I have done enough waiting.    At the end of the day, this is taking place between Me and you; the nature of the dynamic requires you to be at my beck and call as well as your undivided attention.    How can you make yourself useful to me if you are always hurting for time?    How can constant supervision be possible if you are hardly even there?    How would this respect my own time and energy?    I may have patience but only up to a certain point, especially if you’re screwing around and wasting time.
So yes, I am looking, but slowly. My needs have not changed so terribly much, but they are non-negotiable.  Be familiar with polyamory, and comfortable with a poly dynamic Be service oriented. My life is full to overflowing with responsibilities, I need someone who is driven to reduce my burdens Be intillectually stimulating - politics, science, culture, history, psychology etc. Engage the brain. Be Pet friendly - I have two big dogs, live in the country, keep chickens etc.  If you're a city only person, no dice.  Be a foodie or nearly so - it is one of the great creature comforts of life to explore and enjoy food Be not conservative. This wing of politics in the US has been subsumed into an authoritarian, fascism based mob trying to dictate our lives.   Be pro-LGBTQ. Trans folks in the US are under attack. I am rabidly pro-civil rights for Trans folks. Be good with that, or be gone. Be politically engaged. If you don't vote, don't know whats happening, you're abdicating your responsibility.  Be reasonably put together - you must have a license, a car, a job, and some degree of education.  Be articulate. If you send a one liner, I may just delete and block. It depends on my mood.  Be aware of perimenopause and what that does to women. Its no small thing. Why do I have to put these things in bullet points?  I guess I've just seen too much garbage in my day, and right now, I'm tired. I am here to find what works for me, not to accommodate other people's interests or wants.  
Thoughts on a new 'person' one step removed . Sending messages to new people is fraught with nervousness and trepidation as there is no real way to know how they will be received. A non-reply obviously shows something, but only if the sender knows the message was received to then be ignored. Age, sex, orientation, role, even distance, of both parties, will also give an indication of how it will be read and dealt with, but this can be offset by the BDSM world where some of the more obvious criteria do not apply so ‘strongly’. Asking the question(s) that you really want the answer to, but almost dare not ask or do not ask, does not make life any easier – for both parties. Being submissive or ‘overly’ friendly can lead to misunderstanding when replies are sent. Or lead to further messages to clarify the previous text ‘meanings’. Obviously, this is like real life too, social media is also full, maybe more so, of miscommunications. So, from the perspective of this writer, being: Male, semi Straight, Dom, Creative, of no discernible cult or type (unless being a keen biker counts), older than most, slightly shy and as arrogant as fuck concerning his own Domly skills. Writing a message and sending it out into the ether to land at a stranger’s mail box is still a thought provoking act. Therefore, after drafting a message, editing it, almost sending it before seeing ‘there’ and not ‘their’ so editing it again and then rewriting half of it you press the send key and sit back and try not to wait for the answer. If no answer appears after a week, or a month, then you don’t need to think about it anymore and file it under ‘ah well, that’s a shame’. If a reply appears, especially with witty words ‘linked’ to your (what you hoped were) witty words, then a whole new set of ponderables start to take form as you sit in front of your keyboard about to reply. Was the reply sent because ‘she’ is a polite submissive, because 'she' was a polite human being, liked the style of the message compared to the dross many send, or is ‘she’ actually interested in getting another message? So, message 2: More forward, Certainly. More confident, hopefully. An easy question or three, taken from their profile info to show you have read it, is a good idea. A little more information about ‘Me’ and even more about why the first message was sent – bravery test time. The wait begins again! If a quick reply this is either a good sign with answers and questions of ‘her’ own or a version of ‘Go away, I was polite once don’t push your luck’.If a long pause, then the normal questions nag at your lizard brain again until that ping sounds, and a reply appears – the previous 2 types obviously still apply. If the reply is positive then now it is time to stop pussyfooting around, ask the question, give your reasons why they really should say yes and agree, and, if using a useless forum, like FetLife or the million other internet sites, give them your email or phone number, for text or WhatsApp, for easier chatting. This will either get a happy 'ok' response or the ‘maybe later’ reply, which is not so encouraging, If you reach this point, then it should be fairly plain sailing to send the next message, getting to know them and even meeting or, obviously, putting your foot in your mouth and getting a 'goodbye'. Thoughts over, now just need the 'she' to see this in the hopes it helps with My communications.
Who I Am I believe Mastery begins with self-mastery. I know what I want. I know what it costs. I have the discipline to follow through. Structure isn't a constraint for me, it's the foundation of Mastery. Yield control of your body, behaviors, and attitudes to me, and I will apply equal discipline in sculpting you into my vision of feminine perfection: a strong, confident, beautiful domestic goddess who knows her place is to love, serve, and please her man, and knows exactly how to do all three while being held to the highest standards.  Such a treasure is rare, and to be valued accordingly.   What & Who I'm Looking For Conversation by message primarily.  Perhaps supporting someone in exploring their submission and its link to femininity and inner nature more deeply, whether that be just talking about it, coaching, or some degree of connection. Your understanding of where you are is not important, your interest in discussing it is. I am open to and interested in messaging with a range of women at different places in their understanding of themselves.  I also love hearing about woman's fantasies (even if they'd never consider living them out), as I write a good deal of erotica and am always looking for good plot material.  If you've got some to share, who knows, maybe they'll make it into my next novella. Some women may just want to chat with someone who genuinely knows this life and will talk about it honestly, without agenda, without pressure, and with equal interest in its non-sexual dimensions as in anything else. That has real value and I mean it when I say I'm glad to have it. Some are further along. They know what they are but haven't found the right container for it. They want something structured, something that builds over time, a real dynamic even if it lives at a distance. That interests me as well. And then there is the woman who knows, somewhere beneath the surface, exactly what she is but hasn't found someone who could be trusted with all of it. The need is there, but not the means. A woman who wants not just to be led but to be genuinely shaped. Who understands that submission at its deepest includes being remade over time by someone with a clear and considered vision of what she is and what she could become. That isn't something I take lightly. It is the most intimate thing I know how to do. I'm open to exploring that with the right person, but it is not something I will enter into lightly. If the right person and the right circumstances were to intersect to where something in-person were to eventually become possible, I'm open to that too. That isn't a promise or a goal I'm pushing toward. It simply exists as a possible future out on the horizon, honestly named for what it is. Wherever you fall in that range, if this life calls to you in a way you haven't quite been able to satisfy or understand, reach out. You don't need to have it figured out first. If you find me interesting but are interested in something else - long distance dynamic, roleplay, casual conversation, whatever - reach out.  Who knows, maybe you've thought of something I hadn't even considered. One thing worth knowing: my natural orientation is toward depth rather than breadth. While something is still finding its shape, genuine conversation can begin with more than one person and I welcome it. But I'm not built for maintaining multiple meaningful connections simultaneously. When real depth begins to develop with someone, my attention moves there and stays there. If that means a conversation with someone else has run its natural course, I'll say so directly rather than simply go quiet. That's what honesty looks like in practice. That kind of focused, undivided attention is simply what I prefer to give.
You come to my apartment with flowers, a bouquet of roses, baby's breath, snapdragons, alstroemeria. I invite you in, and make no apologies for what will happen to you. You are already trembling, skin warm but the sensation like a cool breeze as I circle you, eyeing you up and down.    I give you a glass of water, I ask, "Ready?"   And you answer, "Yes Goddess."   I nod.   I come home.   You are punished. Daily. Thoroughly. A lash for every sin against me or the others. I watch you bleed. I clean your back, smiling at every wince.   Your family doesn't understand, and I rub their noses in it. I punish them, too, for their part in your deceit. They made you monstrous and in need of training from a firm hand. They will never again poison the well. No one will. You are MINE. My influence is the only thing of consequence.    I will lead my horse to drink, and you will swallow every bitter drop.   I want to come home, to let my sludge of a soul slide down your throat, to watch you choke, to watch you squirm.   I want my curse to leave my fingertips, and travel inches instead of miles.   You will suffer and I will seethe and it will be beautiful, because that's all the hope I have left.   You will crawl on your knees, and learn your place on collared lead, you will feel every second of the earth's contact on your broken vessel.   You dare to defy, and I dare to ask you back for recompense.   I spit in your eye, while you pray for more.   Have you forgotten that it was you who made my altar, and it is your blood that I crave - it is you who created this mess.   It was you, it is you, always you.   My throne awaits, and calls for me.  
DISAPPOINTED-  There is a difference between presence and performance. When we meet in public, energy speaks louder than words, and truth has a way of revealing itself without effort. I pay attention to alignment — between actions and intentions, between spoken language and written expression, between who you present yourself to be and who you actually are. Lately, something feels off. The version of you I encounter in person does not fully match the one you portray through your writing. Words can be crafted, polished, and arranged to create an impression — but authenticity cannot be manufactured. It either exists, or it does not. Our recent meeting here in Folsom raised clear red flags for me. What I observed in person did not align with the image presented through your words. When behavior, tone, and presence do not match the story being told, it signals inconsistency — and inconsistency erodes trust. We live in a culture saturated with illusion — curated images, rehearsed personas, half-truths, and quiet deception both online and off. Masks have become normal. Pretending has become easier than being real. But I am not interested in illusions, performances, or carefully edited versions of truth. Transparency matters to me. Consistency matters. I value what is real, even when it is imperfect, over what is carefully constructed to appear a certain way. Facades are exhausting to maintain, and eventually they crack. When they do, truth stands on its own — calm, clear, and undeniable. I am direct, observant, and grounded in what is genuine. What you see is what you get. I do not perform, and I do not pretend. In a world full of filters and deception, I remain authentic — as real as you will find. Be real. I can see through what is not.
Journal Entry: Why Some Women Choose Slavery I have often reflected on why some women willingly choose to live as slaves in a Master/slave household. To outsiders, it may appear confusing—why would anyone want to surrender control of their own life? But when viewed through the lens of trust, devotion, and purpose, the answers reveal themselves clearly. For many women, there is a deep longing to be free from the constant burden of decision-making and responsibility that the modern world demands. In slavery, there is clarity. A slave’s role is defined, her place is secure, and her purpose is to serve. This surrender of control is not weakness—it is a relief. In letting go, she discovers freedom from doubt and hesitation, and in service, she finds strength and fulfillment. There is also the matter of intimacy. When a woman gives herself fully, she allows herself to be seen in her most vulnerable and honest state. No masks. No pretenses. In that surrender, bonds are formed that are deeper than most will ever know. To be owned is to be cherished, and for many women, the knowledge that their Master claims them as His gives them a sense of belonging they have always sought. Growth comes, too, from the challenges of slavery. The training, the discipline, the demands of service—all of these shape her into something stronger. She learns to endure, to obey, to strive for excellence. In pleasing her Master, she also proves something to herself: that she is capable of devotion, of transformation, of becoming more than she thought she could be. And perhaps the greatest reward is devotion itself. To give one’s life, heart, and soul to another, without reservation, brings a sense of completeness. Some women long to dedicate themselves fully, and in slavery they find the purest expression of loyalty and love. Their submission is not a loss—it is the path that brings them peace. This is why some women choose slavery in a consensual M/s environment. Not because they are weak, but because they are strong enough to surrender. Not because they lack value, but because they find value in being claimed, used, and cherished. And in that, they are fulfilled.
 It is so sad that an honest to God true Dom/Master with over 50 years in the lifestyle would be on most every sub/slave's wish list. I can be gentle for those just learning, medium for the ones with some experience and Sadistic to those in need of a very hard and prisoner experience. I am a bit of everything to whom it is need for.   Yes as all Dom/Masters my word is my bond to me if I can not be honest or truthful then I should not be here. For those who are Dom/Master in name only before you engage with a sub/slave. You should take every advantage of all those of us who have experience so you can learn. You never talk to a potential sub/slave as you own them as until they willingly give you the honored gift of their submission, you will never own them. This is fact and writen in Iron. That gift is their's to give to whom ever they choose and it is not done lightly. There has to be total trust that you as their Dom/Master will never abuse that gift. Those of you after only sex that is not what this site is about. It is a serious lifestyle steeped jn traditions and rules of conduct. The fact that some of you think it is a game are deceiving yourself and others see it. This lifestyle should never be taken lightly nor used to play games with. The sub/slave is not a toy it is a concept made true by a human being that lives breathes and thinks as well as has feelings that we as Don/Master need to see and think how to co epically add this life to our needs and desires. That comes from trust and a love to make the Dom/Master whole. 
Chastity Chastity strictly speaking is a state of being. The connotation is concerned with purity. In olden times a chaste person was assumed to be free form venereal disease. Further it was thought that person would also have certain character attributes. That their thinking was free of prurient interest was a major attribute. In other terms they did not sexualize things or people. An individual in locked in a chastity device without orgasm will over time gain the same state of innocence. So yes, My slave property will be kept in chastity. Once this state is entered the slave will find a peace and contentment it may not have recollection of ever entering in its past existence. For some, it will be a state of serenity. Will I allow slaves to live continuously in such bliss? Not likely. This state of being occurs over time in males after castration. This return to the innocence of prepuberty is the basis for My considering chastity as a form of castration if but temporary and reversible. Interestingly, if a chastised individual is allowed the pleasure of orgasm and ejaculation it will, over time, return to the sexually obsessed state it may have had prior to the period of denial. This phenomenon marks one of the differences between castration and chastity. The period of time differs from one to another. My experience indicates about six months. Freeing a slave from whatever sex centered ideation it may have leaves its brain available for service to its Superior Owner. This, of course, is a desirable thing. Therefore, most all of My slave property will be locked in chastity. slave’s period of denial, at least for the first couple of weeks, can be a grueling torturous event. Locking a slave’s cock in an inflexible irremovable cage will over time result in changes the Master finds most desirable. At least initially. Locked up some ‘male’ penises will try repeatedly and with marginal success to gain erection and relief for its swollen prostate. its mind will become fixated on sexual things and frustration. it may well experience actual pain and mental distress: true anguish. This period may last days or weeks. Sleep for a few nights may be very difficult. Nights will be spent awake, or semi so, with the sexual ideation and unfulfilled need for sexual release. The discomfort of the slave is one of many things that can bring pleasure to Me as a sadist. After the slave has served Me the blissful state of prepubescence I will start the whole process over again. Milking probably without orgasm will occur. A period of time will elapse with regular sexual release until its old way of thinking with its penis will be established. At some point in time after the establishment, the old chastity cage will be locked on it and it will start the delightful, at least delightful for Me, process over again. Yes, chastity will occur for female slave as well. Mechanically, with some differences as one might expect.  
Bridget Choses Enslavement   Bridget’s emotions were running wild.  The ride up to Master’s gave her ample time to reflect on this special occasion.  Bridget was to be enslaved today.  Master had often told her that all women secretly wanted to be possessed and owned by a dominant master.  Collared.  Be an enslaved slut.  Bridget had embraced her inner slave and wanted the delicious certainty of being a strong Master’s owned property.  What a glorious feeling to have no need to carry on with the soul killing charade of denying her sexuality, her submission, her needs and desires. Bridget was so sure.  She couldn’t wait for their special ritual.  The ritual was ordered by her Master but she had made adjustments and additions that had delighted Master.  She knew Master treasured her and all of her. He often remarked on her intelligence and how it drove her kink and also drove his passion to be her owner.  Master always said women with a desire for the collar, for enslavement were usually the very intelligent ones.   Before she left home Bridget paid attention in the shower.  Her shaving was meticulous. Her legs, arms, and pussy were smooth as possible. She thrilled at the thought of the way Master would cup her smooth, oiled pussy and run his hand back and forth as she squirmed and moaned. She knew Master loved to lick and kiss her clit.  He also like to use his Hitachi and a soft makeup brush on her.  He’d alternate the vibrator and brush on her clit.  Sometimes he’d just stop and listen to her breathing.  Bridget loved it when he chained her wrists and ankles in his bed and made her come over and over until she screamed.  He’d gag and blindfold her and make her come some more. Master had learned early in their play to put a towel under her.  The wet spot was something to see. Bridget’s enslavement ritual outfit was all white and had been her idea.  Master had suggested adding long white gloves and she agreed with relish.  Once out of the shower, at Master’s direction, she installed two Ben Wa balls in her pussy.  They went in nicely.  When she walked around she could feel them as she moved.  She wondered if walking in heels would accentuate the sensation.  Oh well, she’d find out soon.  Bridget loved Master’s toy collection.  He had a veritable fleet of vibrators including a very useful remote controlled beauty.  Master said he was shopping for an internet controlled vibrator for some long distance fun.  He also had a selection of nipple clamps, some fun and some she feared.  There was a lot more and she was sure the list was growing After carefully pulling on her white stockings and attaching them to her sexy garter she slipped on her skimpy white panties.  A curvy white push up bra completed her underwear.  She had a nice white blouse with a plunging neckline that accentuated her cleavage. Her brief white skirt would expose her slim legs and white stockings.  Finally she slipped on her white high heels with thosecute sexy little ankle straps.  Naturally she added accessories like a string of pearls and a bright red lipstick.  She decided she’d add her fragrance and put on the white gloves when she arrived at Masters. The miles rolled by.  Her heart sang.  She had made her decision.  It felt so right.  All the things she wanted to experience would be hers in a safe and protected place.  Master would help to explore all the dark kinky places she dreamed about.   The highway intersection appeared on her GPS. She had to turn north.   It was time to call Master.  She heard the phone ring.  Her emotions ping ponged.  Master answered with a pleased voice.  She was close.  He could almost sense her.  They both reveled in the joy of anticipation.     Master remarked that he was looking forward to draping her with his new 1/8” stainless steel chain.  Perhaps chaining her breasts with a nice halter.  When he mentioned that he’d like to chain her in Sirik Bridget’s was incredibly turned on.  The thought of the chain running from her collar to the chained wrist manacles and finally ending on the ankle manacles.  Sirik chain bondage allowed movement but served to remind her that she was owned, protected property.  Master loved everything Gorean and spent a lot of time finding ways to practically adapt the mores of Gor to earth.  A significant Gorean notion is that bondage enhances a woman’s beauty.  Bridget agreed but also concluded bondage made her horny as hell. The rural setting, the trees, the quiet appealed to her.  Here’s the driveway.  Turning right and pulling up the long driveway she found herself next to Master’s car and she knew, the beginning of her life changing event was close at hand.  She put her car in park and applied the parkingbreak.  She felt that she also applied a break on her normal, vanilla life.  She would enter the BDSM Sea.  Enter it as one of the more exotic and nuanced denizens.  She would be a slave girl, specifically a Kajira, a Gorean slave.  Bridget and Master had discussed many aspects of enslavement, slave protocols, sexual ownership, and what they each wanted.  She agreed with Master that after all, it was at its heart, an exotic adult game.  They both knew few could play the game, few could accept their role, and few could adhere to the rules and enjoy them with intense satisfaction.  Bridget loved her role and while their private play was so satisfying, she looked forward to their forays into various forms of public play.  Public Play involved exposing part of her BDSM life to the vanilla world.  Bridget always found it surprising.  She couldn’t believe the naughty sense of excitement she felt when she was exposed.  Was it humiliation, she wasn’t sure but it was very kinky indeed. She applied the bright red lipstick.  She loved the color and loved that her Master had told her he loved bright paint on her lips.  He said she was so attractive and luscious and he wanted her lips prominently displayed for him.  Next her fragrance, chosen because it was both understated and exotic.  At last she pulled on the long white gloves that came up to her elbows. Bridget and Master had discussed how she’d wear the long white gloves and he’d hogtie her and use his ball gag.  The picture in her mind of the helpless position always made her wet and horny.  Master had done this before.  Usually he rubbed a rabbit fur all over her body before he pulled her hair and squeezed her tit while he told her how he felt, what he wanted, and what he’d do with her next. As she turned toward the house she found the garage door open and as she had been instructed, she entered the garage and went to the back door leading into Master’s Rec room.  The lighting was subdued but she saw two large shapes draped in thin cloth.  She knew these were their BDSM toys.  Master had built a large cage for her amusement and a sturdy St Andrews cross that would fulfill her desire to be suspended and held helpless. Master had promised to cuff and chain her to the cross.  She knew she’d be naked and looked forward to the way master slipped a gag into her mouth before he applied something to her ass. Usually he forced a silicone bit gag into her mouth before he used his snake whip on her.  She could bite down on the bit and scream at the same time for the serious relief she craved.  Master had assured her she’d receive a serious whipping and perhaps caning that would leave some minor marks.  She wanted the marks.  She wanted to feel his touch afterward.  She wanted all of the things that ownership demanded. She knew Master had plans for an interesting combination Stocks and Spanking Bench.  Bridget had told Master she’d love to be placed in stocks and have her ass molested, pinched, bit, and butt plugged. She wondered if he’d make good on his promise to administer an enema while in the stocks.  Master had a lot of toys and equipment.  He had showed her the enema paraphernalia and it included an interesting flow meter that Master said was important to ensure reasonable flow and comfort.    Climbing the stairs she heard Master’s voice and it made her heart skip a beat.  She loved the way he spoke to her.  He didn’t speak at her rather he spoke with her, sharing his thoughts and sometimes emotions.  Master was sitting in a large black leather chair.  He was wearing his black suit with a black mandarin shirt and a nice red pocket square.  He leaned forward and motioned for her to come up.  He wondered about her trip and if the Ben Wa balls were still in place and how she liked them.  She told him about her journey and, yes, the Ben Wa twins were still in place and had directed her attention at the oddest of times, like stepping on the brakes. He asked her if she was ready, if she wanted to go through with their plans.  Did she really want all the things they had planned for, had discussed.  She knew what he was asking, giving her a graceful out.  Her mind was made up but his trust and care made her even more convinced that she wanted enslavement, wanted slavery, wanted to be an owned woman, Master’s property.  All of their discussions had led to this decision.  They both saw a Master/slave relationship as the purest and incidentally most fun form of a BDSM power exchange.  Both of their roles had been defined in term that made sense to both Bridget answered him by unbuckling her shoe clasps and removing her heels.  Pulling the ribbon from her hair she let it fall loose about her shoulders.  Bridget smiled at her Master and began removing all her clothing.  Finally she stood before her Master totally naked.  Master seemed very pleased. He rose and ran his fingers gently all over Bridget.  Master believed that a Gorean Master took great pride in his Kajira, his slave and should be familiar with every inch of her. Bridget knew that her actually collaring demanded that she be naked. She knelt gracefully before him, raised her arms over her head and crossed her wrists.  Bridget had assumed the Kolar or collar position of a Kajira, a Gorean slave.  She knew the message she was sending was that she was ready to be bound and collared.  Naturally she looked down and waited for Master.  The decision was not only made but by showing her acceptance of their planned bond to her Master she knew it was done.  How happy, how fulfilled.  She almost wanted to cry the emotions were so strong. Her life as a Kajira, a Gorean slave was about to begin.  See accepted that she must always be pleasing and offer perfect obedience. Master formally asked her why she was before him and what were her deepest desires for enslavement.  She continued to look down and at first her voice was a whisper but as she gained confidence she became secure and spoke with a clear steady voice.  She asked to be enslaved.  She pledged to serve Master in all ways.  She would be pleasing at all times with perfect obedience.  She would be the owned possession of Master, subject to his commands, dressing as he directed.  She spoke the words of enslavement, “bind me master”. She spoke the timeless pledge saying she wished to be enslaved and then crossing her wrists in front of her asked that Master bind her.  She felt the ceremonial tying of her wrists with the traditional Gorean yellow bindings.  Master then said he would complete the ceremony, their enslavement ritual, by collaring her.  She felt the collar begin to encircle her throat.  She gasped as he pulled her hair back so he could buckle the collar.  Her formal slave collar was polished metal and had a screw driven locking mechanism.  It would be difficult or next to impossible to remove, not that Bridget would ever think about removing the symbol that encircled her throat.  Master completed fastening her collar.  He took her chin in his hand and remarked on her beauty and suitability to be his Kajira. Master removed the bindings from her wrists and ordered her to stand and had her turn around slowly to display herself. She looked at herself and saw the beautiful collar.  All she could say was “La Kajira, La Kajira”, Gorean for I am a slave. Bridget now understood in a most intimate way that her master treasured her and wanted to enjoy his treasure.  Master had two more things to complete the ritual and the first had Bridget very nervous.  Bridget knew she was to be branded.  Thankfully the branding didn’t call for a real white hot branding iron.  Bridget received a henna dye print representation of the Gorean Kef, a very delicate elaborately beautiful “K”, leaving a sharp red image high on her left thigh.  Next Master spoke her new slave name. When Bridget and Master were together in their new roles, she would be “Sefa”.  Master explained that her new slave name was pronounced SEHF-ah and meant pleasure.  He said she was named that way to remind her how she must always be his pleasure slave.  She didn’t think that would ever be a problem. It was done. Bridget had been collared, branded, and named.   Master said he accepted her as his Kajira.  Master directed her to put on her garter, stockings, panties, and heels.  He snapped a leash onto her collar ring and said “bracelets”.  Bridget immediately put her wrists behind her back, slightly bowed her head, and turned around to receive Master’s manacles. Using the leash and her bound wrists he moved her forward.  Master led her around a bit and then out around the deck. Master often told her that bondage made a woman more beautiful and that served to make her move in a sensuous, elegant manner.  Bridget agreed and could think of nothing better than to be on her knees with her Master’s cock in her mouth. He took her over to a chair by the deck table.  He motioned for her to kneel.  He unclipped the leash and attached a short piece of chain to her collar.  The chain was connected to a d-ring embedded in one of the large deck posts.  Bridget was chained to a post with her wrists bound.  Never before had she felt so at peace.  She was owned.  She had been confined on her Master’s deck.  She felt the chain on her chest.  Bridget’s excitement was mixed with embarrassment and humiliation.  She was on her knees dressed like a tarty slut, out in the open for all the world to see.  She realized that Master was exhibiting her as his prize possession.  Of course she thought, it’s highly unlikely we’ll be disturbed.  We’re out in the woods on a secluded property with foliage all around.  Master laughed and said UPS or FEDEX might show up. Bridget’s life as a slave had begun.  She wished and waited for what was next.  Master said she was to be caged in his slave pen after they had discussed their enslavement ritual.  Master took a plate of fruit and picked up a small piece of melon.  He held it out for her to nibble. She daintily nibbled the fruit.  She was being fed by Master’s hand.  She felt a deep bond and happiness.  Next Master poured some of his cool drink into a small bowel.  He placed it before her and motioned for her to drink.  He was watering his slave, caring for his prize possession.  She knelt before the bowel and lapped at the drink. She felt so humiliated to be made to drink in this fashion but it also was so deliciously kinky.   Her journey had begun.  Life would never be the same.  A calmness, a fullness, a richness had descended on her soul.  Master caressed her cheek and breasts and then checked the manacles.  He also adjusted her collar.  Bridget knew master would always make sure she looked her best.  She was his prize possession. Master leaned back and took a small velvet sack from the side table.  “Nadu” Master commanded and Bridget went into the slave position that had her kneeling with her wrists behind her back. Bridget was fascinated  She knelt with her thighs spread wide, back arched, wrists crossed behind her back.  Master produced a bright red ball gag and told her to open her mouth. Bridget felt the ball pressed tightly into her mouth as Master firmly buckled the gag in place.  She found her hands bound behind her back, and the ball gag reduced her to small whimpers to communicate.  She knew she was vulnerable and totally in the control of her master.  It was delicious.  It made her wet just to think of all the things he would do with her.  The bracelets were gleaming metal and had a short length of chain between them so they were relatively comfortable. Master helped Bridget to stand.  He pulled her panties down to her ankles and helped her bend over. He guided her to lay across his lap and began to stroke and kneed her ass cheeks.  Master remarked that she had a pleasingly plump ass that just begged to be spanked.  Bridget felt her Master applying some kind of oil on her ass cheeks.  She wiggled across his lap into a more comfortable position. It made her feel exposed, controlled, at her Master’s mercy.  Bridget couldn’t believe how excited she felt, how she wanted more, more attention, more control. Master told Bridget that he wanted to assert his ownership, make sure she knew she was his property.  Bridget whimpered her assent. She wanted to be his,begged her master to have her, to make her his own, anyway he wanted.  Just do it now. Master began a slow rhythmic paddling of Bridget’s ass.  Slowly at first but soon faster and harder.  Bridget moaned and gasped. Master paused and asked Bridget if she was his, his property. Bridget thought “yes, yes, yes, have me, have all of me.  I am your Kajira and want to be nothing else”.  Master held up one finger which was the signal for silence Bridget was surprised that Master had shut her up, to be quiet.  She understood that he wanted to be in control.  He told her he felt so completed by their rituals.   Master loved the idea that they had built their own kinky world and Bridget loved the way he ruled it. He could silence her with a command or perhaps a gag.  She loved the delicious excitement when he placed a nice red silicone ball gag in her mouth.  Naturally Master could silence her by imposing speech restrictions and she always complied but the ball gag was so hot. Master reached behind her to the small table by his large leather chair.  Bridget felt his movement and turned her head.  “Oh my” she thought as Master’s hand held the red ball gag, a shiny bright metal butt plug, and a tube of lubrication.  Her heart beat faster as she realized she was in for another anal training session.  
During a visit to a local dungeon venue this past Saturday I had one of the best interactions with a submissive female that I have experienced in a very long time. She was slightly younger, dressed to accentuate her lovely sexy curves and her quite striking face was highlighted with bright ruby red supple lips. She was there with her male companion who shared her love of submission and alternate lifestyles as her long time loving and caring dominant. After some casual conversation and judging by my obvious leather fetish attire and black high heel boots, she asked if I was a Domme and if I had experience and enjoyed impact play. After acknowledging our common interests and my proclivity for such things, she felt comfortable enough to display the several fading bruises on both her breasts saying how much she loved earning them as badges of honor. Seeing my totally accepting expression she handed me her phone and asked for my contact information. At that moment we shared a slight touch of our hands and a long intriguing glance as we went on with our somewhat teasing and playful conversation. That obvious intense sensual connection, the kind that sets you back immediately had been established for whatever reason and we both could sense it. The night was quickly coming to an end and just before leaving she asked her partner for one last thing, permission to give herself to me! I could hear her whisper softly...please I want her! After some mutual agreement we all moved to the private flogging bench where she assumed the position on her stomach, legs spread open and straddling the sides. An amazing sight of her vulnerability as I handed the small assortment of leather floggers and crops to her dominant telling him to begin and warm her up. After a moment or two of rather sharp strikes and slaps upon her ass and thighs which created quite an initial reaction from her, he literally handed the reins over to me and said take her! I thanked him for his amazing gift of her submission. My immediate first reaction was not to strike her even though he claimed she would be quite capable of sustaining any of my most punishing blows. Instead I reached up behind her head and slowly swept her hair from her beautiful illuminated face and ran my fingers softly through her long wavy hair gently stroking her face, neck and bare shoulders. In a sudden brisk movement I grabbed a fist full of hair pulling it back sharply while whispering to her that she would now have what she wanted so badly from me, to be taken! Whimpering slightly in response, I exposed the tender area behind her neck and top of her spine. Scratching my long fingernails down from her scalp to her lower back and under her arms she bucked up to receive my tactile probing. Rising up to meet my touches signaling her willingness to give herself over to me freely and without hesitation. Without warning I raised the short leather crop in my other hand and struck crisply that soft tender exposed place on her neck creating a loud and imposing crack. After repeated similar alternating actions mixed with sharp slaps to her upper inner thighs lasting several minutes, I could sense from her undulating movements, labored breathing and glazed look that she had slipped deeply into her euphoric place turning her slight painful whimpers into moans of pure pleasure! My repeated and relentless harsh and somewhat painful torments had clearly transported her there, completely and for a sustained period of time. There was no limit to her wanting, yet we ended finally with a pause, a caress and kiss to her reddened neck and shoulders and an fully encompassing embrace from them both. She admitted to never being that deep before and that my intense energy had caused her to become overwhelmingly aroused and was something she would eventually crave more! We both shared those feelings and desires as we hugged and kissed good night. Hopefully future chapters together with this amazing creature shall soon be written!
I am pathetic.  After everything that happened I swore off this life. I deleted Fet, removed all my social media, removed all my chats EXCEPT FOR CS only because I was afraid in the next few years if I returned to this life it would take Forever to make a new CS account. Which I guess is good as I have 1 avenue I can share these thoughts. In summary, I'm pathetic. I didn't even last 3 weeks before I was deeply depressed.  Which doesn't matter as I don't have a Master anyways.  By the way Master Tim wherever you are now, dead or alive, you owe me. You owe me big time. I was newly married, a house wife, in my 20's and I went online (back then) on Yahoo chat. I had just found a book on Gor the first book in the series and I had questions and I didn't know what to do with these newly discovered feelings. I just wanted to know what this meant. I'm a black female who was married to a black man and I had shown him what I saw and wanted to engage it. My husband said what black woman would ever want that life. I was mortified. Is there something wrong with me? I just wanted to know. Then I found Master Tim. Master Tim you didn't have to show me the lifestyle. For 5 years.  You wanted to meet outside of chat day 1 of talking. I agreed and thought I'd was being smart by saying a public place .. Like the library. You pulled up an older white man with leather on and a motorcycle. You looked like you came from the wrong side of the tracks. I was young (in my 20's but truancy officers still stopped me), newly married, black female who was probably too naive for my own good. I watched you sit on your motorcycle. I knew it was you. You didn't look like you belonged here.. it was thrilling to watch you knowing you were just like in the books. You finally got off your bike and went inside. I wanted to see more, observe more. I went inside. I didn't see you and went deeper looking through the book aisles. You cornered me and said my chat handle. I nodded and you said you knew it was me something about being able to tell a submissive girl.  Side note: I have heard that over the years. A man would look at me and be like your submissive or a slave and I would be like how do you know. This always happened in a vanilla setting where I was not behaving in a submissive way to me but I was always called out.  I digress. You reached slowly to touch my breast and I didn't fight you or anything. I didn't know what to expect but I knew from the book and Yahoo chat this is what is to happen if He/You wanted. I got nervous and you stopped. What if we were spotted and this was my town what if a friend of my husband saw us... See I was naive and stupid. You told me to take you to my home. I nodded and did. JUST met this man and did. I was lucky you didn't hurt me. I brought you into my home and you whistled. I was proud of my house. You then ordered me to kneel and you stripped me. You put me in the correct position for kneeling and you touched my pussy and breasts. I was in heaven. I can't describe the feeling of being under that gaze that makes you forget how ugly and fat you are. That gaze that makes you feel womanly, sexy and that you'll do anything for Him. Master Tim gave me his address and told me to meet you at your house tomorrow if I was serious.  I was serious. I did everything you commanded. I was not perfect. I was tired. Annoying. Hell, you had to order me to fuck my husband (my first Master was so considerate). When you worked late, I went out with the "girls" at your commands so you wouldn't be bored. Tired up in the back of your party bus. The patrons thought it was a great gag. When you parked and they went to the clubs to party you couldn't leave the bus. We had fun. Whatever Master wanted. Needed. Then one day out of the blue you said your were sick/hurt and that you were moving to Georgia. And left. Just like that. I was released and you were gone. Over the phone. A year or so back I had begged you to meet me divorce my husband so I could be your slave full time. You said you couldn't give me the life I was used to. I'm not an idiot. I realized you lived in poverty let's be honest and I was upper middle class but that didn't matter to me. I just wanted this life but permanent. I thought I could say least prove to you that I was what you wanted but you were gone. I didn't even get a say. I was devastated. I was crying on the bed and my husband sat next to me. He said that our first 3 years of marriage/dating was hard but these last 5 years have been pure bliss. Now I'm home crying like I lost a family member. He gently asked if I had been cheating. I told him yes. That it was bdsm and he said he didn't realize how important it was to me. He would try. My husband found out I was cheating our whole marriage and said he'll be what I needed to be happy. I agreed. It lasted a mere thought. The man is just not built like that and I was trained in the strictest version of bdsm. He was doomed to fail.I was depressed sad and this life I can't stand anymore. Everything made sense with Master Tim. This... This life didn't.. I got divorced.  I've had Masters after Tim but ... I'm not worthy. I'm not submissive. I'm a slave. They are different to me. I get excited at options cuz I'm used to not having them and honestly I don't really want the choices. I'm a slave. I do as commanded. That feels right. I don't mind getting to make a recommendation but ... Yeah ...I'm too old now to keep looking for a Master. Youth is not on my side and my pretty looks is aging. It's harder to stay slim naturally and ... I really hate this life. I wish I never found that damn book. I wish I never had good Masters and then bad Masters but regardless Masters. I wish I could be normal and vanilla and that I don't long for the strict confined world I can no longer be a part of.  I wish there was a way for the pain to end.  It's so incredibly painful to be this way, I can't help it, and there is no counterpart. Its worse than being lonely. I'm a slave with no Master. I can't breathe, I can't think, I try desperately to never engage to not think of this life.  it wasn't supposed to be this way and like I said lated 3 weeks. I'm pathetic. 
Now that we have journals back, it's time for an update. This is now a poly household. We're set up with both a dungeon and a medical playroom.  The dungeon is amazingly well stocked with just about every sort of cane, flogger and whip you can imagine, and some things you probably haven't.  Anyone who's interested in play time or dungeon time should feel free to ask. If you're interested in more than just playtime, there are some things you should understand:  This is a KINKY HOUSEHOLD.  It is NOT kid friendly.  If you have kids, and have custody of them, we can talk and even arrange some playtime, but we're probably not going to be a good match.  This is a POLY HOUSEHOLD.  In order to make this dynamic work, everyone involved needs to be willing to compromise and work as a team.  This is a balance that takes work to maintain, and is incomptable with drama.  We're only interested in women who are willing to try to contribute to the dynamic and thereby add to the household.  Chaos is not welcome here.    If you are under 25, we don't expect you to have your life together, but we do expect you to be sane and healthy.  Freaky is encouraged, but have a grip of reality - you've got to start with reality before you plunge down the rabbit hole.  If you are over 35, still living at home and unable to take care of yourself, or still going out to bars and clubs every night you can to get blitzed and hook up, you need to grow up before contacting us.  I am willing to travel to meet, but if you're outside PA, you're going to need to do a video call.  We travel by private plane on the east coast of the US.  If this excites you great, I'd love to have another pilot in the household.  If this terrifies you, we're out of your league.  I'm sure there will be more coming, but this is a good start. 
As an enticement Here are two decsriptions that I is did actually did perform and enjoy. That are not requirements, but a reflection of creativity and strength and fun. Perhaps these may motivate your interest   Tale 1 Years ago I was working professionally as a Dominant. My clientele typically were well off, all female, and seeking release from their careers. One in particular was seeking to be very much brought down in a submissive manner so that she could see herself and decide if that submission needed to be part of her life. One weekend, and yes, it was a stormy winter night, I went to her palatial home as arranged. The mood was to be very dark and I was to be dominant and very unyielding. She had only one way out of any situation, that was to ring a bell tied around her hand. That said, she was prepared for depths of dominance...... upon arrival, she was awaiting as instructed. Leather slave harness, well heeled thigh boots and kneeling in the entry way. I asked her if she was prepared and ready... she said yes. I placed my bag down, ball gagged her from behind, and clamped her nipples. She had a fine body and was already aroused. I place a posture collar on her and leashed her and made her follow me to her special room. Over the course of our encounters she had setup her own dungeon in her own place. There I stood her facing me and bound her limbs to the cross tightly. I then roped her to the cross at various points of her body so that her weight could be taken. For the next 2 hrs about, if flogged her, vibed her, made her orgasam at my will, and did what I wanted with her until she collapsed in her bondage. She knew this was the goal. After 2 hrs She was exhausted and emotional.... still though, she was defiant in verbiage to me as I worked with, but I always at all times called her how on her defiance and punished her for it. Seeking to drive her to submission forcibly was the mutual desired goal. In the end she did yield, where upon I released her and made her kneel properly holding by her hair roughly to the position. I removed the gag, and place a tight pvc hood upon her and regagged her with an in mouth penis gag. I then took her to a floor stock where she was bound and restricted at the arms, body, neck. I then plugged her ass with a plug and then placed a lubed fucking machine dildo in her and switched it on..... I told her she had to endure 2 hrs of forced fucking by an unyielding mechanical device or until she admitted she was a worthless cunt that was good only for fucking. This was a trigger phrase for her that she knew if she said it would allow her to descend mentally to the state she wanted to discover...... I sat in a chair and enjoyed controlling the unrelenting machine using her...... Interesting enough she lasted only one hour where upon sweating, and having orgasamed 5 times she begged for mercy and said her phrase and rang the bell in a believable manner. I release her and sat back in the chair an watched. She crawled to me..... rubbing her face against my boots, but pointed to her gag to be removed..... I did, and she at her own initiative said she was now truly a fucktoy, and cumslut slave craving only the release in submission she so desperately wanted..... I permitted her to orally pleasure me to seal the deal in her mind.
After my first marriage to a cheater, I developed the confidence to start exploring bondage. I have a strong need for connection with a lover. Random hook-ups don't feel right to me. On the other hand, I love to flirt and have no problem meeting people anytime, anywhere. To balance this out, I experimented with chastity, both mental and physical. Around this time I made some good looking friends who got me comfortable with showing off my body for them. This was all very exciting but was not matching my desire for a relationship built on trust that includes times of intense sexual expression. I wanted to have a bondage partner that was as strong minded and aggressive as I was.With years of searching, it is dawning on me that my natural manner attracts compassionate and often sexually submissive women. My hidden desire is to be the submissive partner, however, I wanted to feel my submission during daily life rather than in the bedroom, without squashing my masculine personality. I'm searching for an unusual balance where I am appreciated for being a responsible man navigating every day life but with my happy partner having the power to flip my switch into a lusty and aggressive lover who will pin her down and take us both into sexual adventures in bondage and submission. I am now picturing a scenario in which my I commit to someone by surrendering the keys to my chastity belt. On days of her choosing, she provides me an opportunity for freedom knowing that I am quite frustrated with lust for her. This is my license to drop my normal demeanor and become a little meaner, taking what I need in the way that I want. When the time to revert to public persona returns, it is understood that she should claim the keys and remind me that I belong only to her. This is what I might term a submissive led switch, with the role-reversal determined by the woman not by playing domme but by choosing to let the dogs out! Yes, I want to have to freedom to using my ability to capture and dominate, but I don't want to have to suppress my desire to do so. If I hand you the keys, I want us to be comfortable knowing that when sex happens, it happens only because you want it to happen. You will know I am always ready when you are because you are my only release.
The Meaning of a collar The collar is one of the firsts to come to mind when we think about leather in its simplest functional form. Yet whether a collar is fastened on ones own neck or seen adorned by another, it always evokes a deep response, but what is the cultural meaning behind the collar – and why does it get our hearts racing without fail?The collar has been a key piece in the process – as it easily transcends worlds without losing its radical potential. In fashion, the collar is an enduring symbol of pushing boundaries. It’s been part of the subcultural dress code since the early days of the punk movement. Collars served as a finishing touch to outfits already ridden with safety pins and chains – at times, in line with the community’s resourceful spirit, those were the actual sturdy dog collars from pet shops. Collars were a fitting accessory for self-proclaimed underdogs – and a nod to sexual subversiveness as a part of broader nonconformity. The collar has a deep significance in the BDSM and kink community as the ultimate symbol of power exchange. Worn around the neck, it signifies the submissive role or exploration of submissive desires. It is a foundation for collaring ceremonies (and since recently, self-collaring) which celebrate relationship dynamics and identities, a crucial asset for play, and a fun way to toy with these ideas maybe for a few hours at a party. Getting a collar for yourself or accepting a collar as a gift from someone else can be a sincere gesture of romantic connection – or simply an act of self-love and being open to new types of experiences. When the buckle closes around your neck – that sweet tight pull and release – the collar stops being an and becomes an invitation to explore a different mindset or role, play with the energy it brings you and see where it takes you. Whether combined with clothes or on its own, wearing a collar can be intriguing, arousing, moving, comforting or even thrilling. A perfect collar combines the visual ect of form and functio, with texture, sturdiness, and the quality of materials from which it is crafted. Wearing a collar is an embodied experience rooted in psychology and sensation. Our necks are sensitive and vulnerable, a precious vessel for nerves and arteries, a place that holds erotic tension. A collar is a reminder of human fragility, connection, commitment, and the courage to show up as your authentic self.    
  FWB, FUN....or LTR The site is set on BDSM- but I can drop all that and just make hot love to a woman.     I am DDF and expect the same.   Hello lady's, and thank you for stopping by! Miscellaneous Facts About Me... * Name: Randall Loomis * Birth Date: April 24, 1967 * Height: 6' * Weight 220 lbs * Hair: Peppered * Eyes: Brown * Marital Status: Single * Astrology: Taurus * Hometown: Troy, OH. USA * Born: Milwaukee, WI. USA * Gender: cis male * Ancestry: Polish, German, Irish, Scotch * Myers Briggs Type Indicator: ENFP * Education: AS Automotive Technology, BA Comparative Literature Studies of English and Law, MA Intervention Specialist K12 Teacher * IQ: 165 (Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale, 2004 ) * Favorite Colors: Camo, Black, Aqua Blue  * Favorite Snacks: Cold butter on non toasted cinnamon raisin bread, assorted pretzels, chips and iced diet Dew * Favorite Implement: Your favorite! I am a very decent highly educated perfect gentleman that has been a ladies man all my life Fine dinning, first gf, first car and she at 15yo was reading her older sisters smut books;  she made me do it all and eventually I grew to like licking her anus well for hours. Now Im older and still want a hot sexy gf to love for real to make passionate love.  But I cant be with a gurl that is not passable I had an fwb for 3 years with my downstairs neighbor She is 21yo and looks hot, But I have had to groom her to be more lady like or girly I got her started on a nice scent from Katy Perry, But she doesn't make herself appear like a woman.  Body oders, dirty finger nails, punky don't care personality, and now shes sexing strangers outside a bar after its closing time I don't want a disease or std Im clean I like kissing and when I see I see a beautiful woman and I can tell that I would dinner date you I would be your Daddy with FWB and you be my Baby sissy Anything is possible for the right woman...marriage or just a ltr I want to kiss my partner with lil gentle kisses and touches and yada yada FUCK whatever she needs from me to make her happy for hours of orgasms xx Daddy I'm happy to see you post a full length pic with your face. That is essential for me to be attracted to a gurl. I am looking for a cd that wants to be treated like a woman. I'm straight guy all my life...a wine and dine ladies man that now likes all girls/gurls that are passable with a dick or a pussy.  I'm a straight alpha male, take charge masculine man. Hairy chested, well built 6ft tall, 220pounds and very broad shouldered muscular 52 inch chest. Great personality, good sense of humor, Loves kissing, hugging and fondling, many hours of foreplay for you.  I'm  looking for a romantic friendship that has the intensity to start a spark with fun dates, wine and dine, dinner and dancing, pizza and a pitcher of beer, shoot pool or romantic beach blanket and a bottle of wine...or just to chat you about anything in your life. I want to love all of a partner and make her happy.       My profile is new I am light into BDSM, butt I do like submissive/sissy types. So Im a loving daddy Dom I was never gay But a pretty hottie 21yo tgirl and I started a FWB and played around like kissy bfgf Im looking to love someone with passionate love making and share quiet moments tv and your favorite treats delivered that is a 3 day weekend date with me.  I would rather drive or fly for a weekend getaways then have sex with the local escorts down the street. I want an exceptional woman for an LTR.   
My profile text as of 15 yerars ago. It was much too long.   I am a submissive TV with small bones for a male, a slim waist line and slender, fine features - very full brown hair down to shoulder length (as you can see) - very passable and used to living in female clothes - quite fit and great endurance, but below average brute-strength abilities for genetic male. I am generally submissive to those I admire, respect and/or fear, and eager to please them - have also been told repeatedly throughout life that I am abnormally humble and gentle for a genetic male. I'm quite adept at various stereotypically feminine pursuits such as cooking, sewing, house cleaning, laundry, ironing, clothes maintenance and gardening. I have some experience (though not abundant) serving life-style/non-pro Dommes and Dom/me couples, though not for longer than a week at a time. Acknowledging that the specific individuals are more important than the particular concept, I could see myself as open to and being happy in a number of possibilities, depending upon the details:   - a more mild monogamous long-term relationship with a dominant woman. It would probably be best, if You leaned toward the sensual domme end of the spectrum.- full-time enslavement to a Domme or lesbian dominant couple: Although I would hopefully provide You with the basic emotional and domestic support that You seek in a long-term TPE relationship, I recognize that You may have cravings for a manly man (or men!), and would try my best not to show the jealousy I would no doubt feel to some extent, should You decide to satisfy these cravings.   Regardless of the particular concept, it would be desirable, if You were enthusiastic about strict feminization and enforced chastity of the trans submissive.A situation involving old-school domesticity and self-sufficiency will be a distinct plus, and, in this case, I will be quite happy to carry the domestic bulk of that burden in the relationship; I just don't want to serve someone who'll insist that I buy processed packaged foods only, for instance.     Thank You for Your time!  
nuance beyond melanie martinez and lana del rey contrasting with caity krane NOTE: this originally was written on reddit as a visual media interpretation. i crafted screenshots and homemade gifs to enhance the written word. this platform doesn't allow that so some of what is mentioned cannot be shown. i already made a post about melanie nostalgia-ing. but i really feel it wasn't just nostalgia i was picking up on an energetic current between the tribe/community because just like when i talked about the powerpuff girls and right after that i was seeing so many of the tribe members that have more public eye and celebrity referencing them and artist that are tribe or sell to the tribe talk about them more and actual artists as in professionally well paid creatives that are tribe vibe talk about it i knew i was onto something there. so melanie ehhh i was nostalgia-ing but i think i was also treelawny- ing that essence of the moment. i don't really talk about lana that often because i feel as a fellow mermaid energy she uses her siren powers for bad entrapping lower level dysfunctional and bad vibes on purpose. i don't know the effect she has on the side of the coin of the guys since i'm not a guy but she just knows the right buttons and insecurities and struggles and challenges of the lifetime that the little/babygirl has to overcome, heal, grow, adapt, evolve out of etc. she knows what the life lessons tribe has and instead of using it to elevate she uses it to try to keep us girlies stuck. hell she is stuck herself but is making money and a living off of it. with someone that emotionally energetically, and jush-y powerful i tend to just cool off and disengage. haha i was thinking aboutt it though as this song from my gazillion hour playlist. these two are some of the most recent ogs for music that resonates with us girlies and those in the lifestyle but it gives not only twisted it gives basic bitch vibes. it's like those who are apart of the cult of sanrio know hello kitty is basically like michael kors. trying to be something more elevated than he is but highly popular aka a consumer favorite. it gives that kinda vibes. this song and video is so great. it's a fellow tribe member at least coded in my eyes as her vibe mood and visuals scream little girl to me and this song only has 2k views and the video only has 8k views. it's a goddamn shame. maybe in human design this artist caity is also a projector like me and that forward thinking that majority will not understand, but is vital for the progression of ourselves as a society/community type vibe. either way i get her i get it. and i dig the bluegrass vibes she brings in. another rarity over the nashville country sound. i don't down lana because she talks about sad stuff.....the song i mention i've been lonely by caity krone is a look into the more tender, emotional, raw, and sad parts of being an adult housing an active outer child little/baby girl on the inside. at times we're human and were made to feel the full range of emotions. but in emotional intelligence, growth, training, strength, endurance we learn feeling vs wallowing is a thing. and letting it consume vs flow is a thing. and acknowledging vs obsessing over it is a thing. i feel this is a simple acknowledgement. the simple image of the artwork already elevates us into more little girl nuance where it's not smacking us on the head with something so blase. hey there fellow mermaid sister by the water with the wavy hair. even the album cover for this entire cd is more nuanced and flavorful. someone added some seven spices to this shit. view profile ›
Master's WritingsCreating a DynamicThe dynamic I want to create has its foundation in trust, open communication and pure honesty. These pave the way for how we relate to each other, how much of ourselves we will give and let go within the dynamic, and how safe we feel to be owned or to own another. The greater the foundation, the deeper the dynamic, and I seek genuine, tremendous depth.The best dynamics allow both kink and vanilla elements to flourish. Even in a total 24/7 dynamic there are vanilla elements that impact and are necessary to the health of the greater dynamic. To ignore this is to ignore the human you wish to create the dynamic with.Dynamics must be flexible and ever evolving. They are living breathing things when done correctly. They require nurturing, maintenance, and love, just as those who live within them do. As individuals, we all have needs. We evolve. We grow, and so too must dynamics. There must be flexibility to bend to whims of the moment, grow as the tastes and needs of the individuals evolve, and be reborn when people, situations and events take us off track.Finally, dynamics must reflect all participants. I seek a collaborative development of a dynamic where each has an appropriate voice, with opportunity to step outside of roles as needed for essential conversations to ensure none are forgotten as we build and rebuild our dynamic over time.Creating this dynamic has been my dream for longer than I can remember. But no one person can create this on their own. It requires another who feels this need as greatly as I do.
A lot of people don't realize who they are. Like my neighbor, who says she doesn't want to gossip, I suspect because it's frowned upon, and yet can't wait to get juicy details that are none of her business. She sticks her nose in where it isn't needed all over the damn place. I don't think she realizes how much she thrives on it. She definitely doesn't use it to her advantage in a field where it could be useful.  Or my pain in the ass direct boss, who loves authority, who has to be right, who treats women as slightly to moderately inferior depending on the situation. He's insensitive. He's loud. And he doesn't seem to give one single shit what anybody thinks. This man has no idea that people don't want to deal with him, men or women. That at least a handful of good people have left because of him.  I think a lot about who I am and how it is portrayed. What sometimes comes out instead and if that's me or reactionary. Then again, most of my life has been reactionary, so maybe I don't even know who the real me is. I'm learning. I made the decision to switch careers and I am giving myself a year to do it. Research, learn, prep, etc. And just like that, I care a whole lot less about my boss because now he's temporary.  It's another moment where my life is on hold, but it isn't. This time I'm like a duck swimming; serene above water, paddling like crazy below. I think I'm moving in the right direction in figuring out who I am and where I want to be. It begins. 
A second story I wrote for a friend after she told me the 1st was too sweet. . . The Visit The time leading to this moment had been unbearable but now at last the bell was  ringing, the waiting was over. The woman walked quickly along the hall and opened the door to see a man standing there."Have you got rid of them?""Yes." she replies."Get me a drink," he says and waits for her to turn away from the doorway and walk down the hall before entering.To her back he says, "are you wearing what I asked for?""Yes." The woman answers and goes to pour whiskey into a glass. The man, standing by the door, watches her prepare the drink then walks into the living room and looks around with a smile on his face."Here." The woman hands him the glass and the man takes something from his pocket and throws it at her."Put this on." The thin strip of black cloth falls at her feet and as she bends down to pick it up her short skirt rises up her leg and exposes stocking tops and the pale skin of inner thigh. She holds it not quite sure of its purpose."Over your eyes." The man snaps, "and be quick."The woman feels fear swell inside her as she looks at the material held between her hands."Do it." There is no warmth, nor for that matter any feeling at all, in the man's voice. When she as tied the cloth she feels ungentle fingers test the band and then a hand grabs her and, stumbling, she is led to her settee and pushed down onto it. She presses her knees together and hugs herself to try to stop the tremors that suddenly take hold of her. She feels more than hears him walk away then a metallic click followed by something plastic falling on the floor.She jumps as the music centre bursts to life playing something loud and frantic that she does not know. The floor is vibrating with the heavy thud of the base and she is surprised when hands grab and pull her to her feet.She keeps repeating in her head, don't show fear, this will be over soon, relax, but she has to choke back a scream as strong fingers crush her breast through her clothes."Now we can play without undue notice." The man says and rips apart her short top and sends buttons flying over the carpet.Instinctively she covers herself with crossed arms. The man laughs and forces his hand up her skirt and between her legs.She clenches her teeth and holds her head still and tries not to show how she feels so he will not get any further excitement from her. She feels him fumble with the zip at her hip and the skirt fall to the floor.He steps back and looks at the woman before him. She is in good shape and he savours the thought of the time to come. The black bra supports rounded breasts which show over the thin lace. A flat stomach and trim hips meet his approval as too do the thin narrow panties which show a neatly trimmed triangle of fair hair. He turns her around and grabbing material pulls it sharply up between her legs.He barely hears her g but his erection grows as her hands fly down to ease the pain in her crotch. In the blackness of the woman's head see tenses for the next pain but none comes and she has to relax her muscles then shivers with the thought of this is what he is waiting for.The time in the dark void passes without any way to measure and the pounding music seems to have no beginning or end but repeats the same mind numbing beat.She wants to say something, anything, to the man to make him not hurt her but no words come to her and she waits. She had thought the waiting, after the phone call, was going to drive her insane. With the way he was dealing with the evening she realised that he had known it would do. Oh Christ why did I keep those photos? Why didn't I install that burglar alarm when I thought about it? She is shocked back to reality as hands grab her and force her to walk blindly. "What do you want?The words sound pathetic even as she speak them and she hopes he does not hear her weakness over the music. Her legs hit something and her hands reach out letting her know she is up against the settee back. The man says in her ear, "Take off your bra."She reaches back and unclips the hooks and tries to take it off without showing her fear. The man moves to kneel facing her, on the settee, and takes both breasts in his hands and gently caresses them.The woman breaths hard and thinks about her child sleeping safely at her friends home and hopes her body will not respond. She feels wetness on her breast and the familiar sensation as her nipples expand.The man smiles and rolls flesh between thumb and finger watching as small bumps rise around the woman's nipples. He reaches down and pulls the skin back over his erection. He always likes the first stroke as the slight pain burns at the head. With his left hand he traces small circles on her body as his right hand moves faster and faster bringing him to he brink. His right hand leaves his prick and darts out and hits the woman's left breast in a upwards swipe. The woman cries out and the man shudders with the effort of withholding his ejaculation.   When he has controlled himself he is pleased to see tears appearing from
Master expaspects me to kneel by the door when he comes back to greet him and wait on him. Usually, I will stop my unfinished chores are rushed to the door about 5 mins before to wait on him until he arrives.  After all, there is only slave waiting for the master, and no master should wait for the slave..    Today, master comes back as normal, with me by the door kneeling and waiting for him. I did the usual greetings.    Then he proceed to his dining table for the prepared meals. Thereafter. he went to wash up. Before going to his crouch to watch TV. All these with me trailing, and waiting on him.    When he is watching TV, I will be kneeling by his side body towards him waiting on him and for any instructions.    This is usually the time where he will make me self-confess the unfinished chores for the day. Which is a definite that I cannot complete.    So as usual, I will list down the incomplete tasks, of course in the prescribed way of talking befitting a girly slave. Today, I did not finish about 30% of the daily task. After hearing, master then decides on the punishments and its severity for the chores unfinished, which are usually administered on the spot. Today, master decided to 'award' 30 strokes of cane on each of my palm for the incompetency of my works.    He stretched his hand out for the cane near his crouch while presented both palms for master's caning. Pain is definite despite how often I have it.. Though by now I am able to endure better, it is still pain afterall. This is especially so from the very first stroke that hit the palm.. Ouch!! AND SHOCKING PAIN... Master proceed to administer the punishment accordingly until he completes it.. And as usually, I had to thanked him in a his prescribed manner. Then he continued watching his TV.    Seems like administering such punishments are already so daily norm for master that it is nothing significant to him. But as slave, bearing the receiving end, the pain is still felt, which embedded more lesson-learned in my head to improve and behave better. Pain is indeed is useful tools to the master to constantly train and conditioned me to be more of his slave. And to keep me reminded of my position with him.    Being a typical weekday, after watching tv, master decided to go to bed. And as usual, I kneeled by his bedside waiting on him, until he falls soundly asleep...    https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhGH1Qbag4D9PNQG7TSvSMgPM55A4HwKp5fKqH5sAkpir3hXC3KLRINb2aW8ufHKof06mvzwL1mgJsLAvqq4pxk7caIJpmquiwPzCIziUAld7RiHyKBdknH2fphdk6I8B3WpH1F1WzrK0auzBmYqrXWDL9ElDWB-XAkNSbkJ_e7emZZ_MbygPsw7wOkG9g" alt="" width="160" height="240" data-original-height="1248" data-original-width=
Sexual ownership and use is a crucial part of what I look for and what I need. I know some look down on that, but I have my reasons. I am searching and seeking and hoping to find something I had a long time ago, a complete sense of ownership and sexual use with no say in how or when or why I was used. It was very, very sexual and I was completely at the whim of a stronger person who could take or do anything to me at any time. They did not take certain liberties, but they could have and they made sure I was very well aware of their power over me. Because that experience was the very thing that unlocked the door of servitude for me, sexuality and sex is a very crucial part  of what I need. I am not talking about my own gratification. If someone so chose, they could provide that, but that would totally be up to them. I am talking about their use of me...however THEY choose...to make THEM happy. When they are done, they can put me back in the closet, in a cage or where ever they choose. Female or male, black, white, hispanic, oriental...matters not to me as much as the opportunity to be used as an outlet for their sexual frustrations, pleasure, whatever they choose. Ask me about the experience and I will tell all about it. When I am contacted by a straight male dom, I'm never quite sure if I'm what they're looking for and often I am not. More often than not they're looking for "worker slaves" and while I am open to that and no stranger to working hard, it would not fulfill me as a slave to simply have that ect explored. Sound odd? It probably does....but my early, early experience left its mark on me forever.
It's been a quiet couple of months. P had surgery a few months ago and recovery has been slow. That said, I've traveled a few times, especially around the holidays, and that led to some intense fantasies about being captured or coerced away from home. It's absolutely fun to be tied up at home, but it's also fun to think about being snagged from a parking lot with just the most basic ties. Like zipties around my wrists and ankles, a cloth gag secured with tape, my own scarf as a blindfold so I have no idea where I'm being taken. Fighting to get to my cell phone and just as my fumbling fingers manage to pull it out of my bag, the car stops and I'm hauled away to my fate. Maybe my captor sees my phone, forces me to unlock it with my fingertips, and then uses it to document my punishment for trying to escape. Culminating with a photo sent to my husband of my well-used and creampied pussy, with my legs held up to help me conceive. I know the studies are inconclusive but ever since I saw the movie Election, I've been obsessed with the idea of my legs being held back, willingly or otherwise, after a man has cum in me. Or maybe just Matthew Broderick.   A few men have offered to "rescue" me from a life of being knocked up by a Trump supporter. And I have to admit, a lot of the allure was lost for me after the election, and even more after he took office, and even more after unelected gooner Elon Musk started running the government. Maybe I could be a mail order American bride for someone in Australia or Canada. I have no idea how immigration law works in general and especially not for other countries. Maybe someone tricks me and offers to let me stay with them for a few months in a new country, no strings attached. But once I arrive in my new home, I see the guest bedroom has just a mattress with rope laid out on it. I turn to leave and see my benefactor holding my passport and cell phone. He tells me if I want to stay, I better strip down like a good girl, put a ball gag in my mouth, and handcuff myself. Spending the next few months with my legs wrapped around a stranger, hoping other countries allow anchor babies. Trading one form of servitude for another.   What can I say, the body wants what the body wants.
Gabriel was Jesus.  In Daniel chapter 8 through 10 a man visits Daniel. A voice confirms that it is Gabriel in Daniel 9:21. When the man appears to Daniel again in chapter 10 it does not state that it is Gabriel but I would think the same man would continue to come to him means though he showed up twice already to Daniel. It would not be needed to state a third time that it was Gabriel. And I believe if it was another person Daniel would have been told who it was like how he was told before that the man was Gabriel that came to him in chapters 8 and 9.   In chapter 10 it states that this man's appearance has a body of beryl, face like lightning, eyes like lamps of fire, arms and feet like polished brass, and a voice like the sound of a multitude. He is in the form of a man.    In John 17:5 Jesus is praying to his father in heaven and he states that he wants to be glorified at his side with the glory he has alongside the Father that he had before the world was.    This could be why Mary didn't notice him and mistook him as the gardener and why the one disciple had to put his fingers in the holes of Jesus's hands to truly believe that it was him.    Also in John 8:58 Jesus says before Abraham was I am. He was formed before we were ever created. He created us. He is the invisible image of God but gives all the glory back to the Father as he listens to the Father and does the Father's will. He was Gabriel the mouthpiece of God.    In revelations Jesus is said to come back with his face shining like the sun, voice like the sound of many waters, feet like burnished bronze, eyes like the flame of fire, and hair as white as wool, as a Son of Man meaning a human form with a divine presence.   
The stick shift was prominent and imposing. He knew what to do and eased it into gear. She sat turned towards him. With her left hand she softly gripped the back of his neck. With her right hand she started to unbutton his shirt.   Her attitude and demeanor softened as she directed him to drive off into the night. Not given an address, turns we’re made on her instructions. Right here, left there at the next light.   After what seemed like an eternity he was instructed to pull up a ramp to a townhouse garage and as if by magic the garage door opened and closed behind them. Mindful of carbon monoxide, he shut off the motor. The two sat for a moment in the dark both the garage door light and the interior dome lights having timed out.   Her left hand now gripped the back of his neck firmly with authority and she made her demands.   She told him he had a choice. He had to decide immediately. Get out and leave. Walk away and forget tonight ever happened, or go around and open her door with the understanding that he was surrendering his will and body to her.   He stuttered, fumbled his words and choked out an acceptance of her demands. The door opened, he helped her to her feet and she produced a latch key. From a cabinet hung on the garage wall she retrieved a black leather hood. She ordered him to put it over his head. Once in place, he realized it eye holes were covered and a rubber mouth piece similar to a scuba diving hose was forced into his mouth. She laced it tightly and he heard  a lock click around his neck. Swiftly she slid off both his jacket and shirt together. Bare chested he felt the chill of the room as she pulled his wrists behind his back and heard the handcuffs ratchet closed. She put her hands around him from behind and fondled his breasts and pinched his nipples. A low grunt escaped through the mouth piece. He could breathe freely by nose and mouth through openings designed for that purpose.
Masturbation   A book could be, should be, has been? written on the subject. However, in this little piece I am going to address those that masturbate to My writings.    First thing I want those that engage in the practice of jacking off while reading or chatting with Me to know is your behavior is OK with Me. Whack off to your hearts content. Edge yourself.    Some few might even have a cock sucker serve you while you peruse My site. Go for it. Good for you.   Sorry, I have not included female pussy players up to this point. Yes, I know you are out there. Same for you; enjoy.   Here is what I would like you to do. Tell me. I know some are to embarrassed to shy or, maybe, to selfish to share their activity with Me. Get over yourself. Do you really think you are all that much that you cannot share?   Ok, enough shaming. One of the adverse effaspects of your spanking your monkey is when you come and the subspace disappears from your head you just drop any communication you are having with me. Do you think that is fair to me? No. No it is not.   Here is what I would like you to do. Just tell Me of your activity when you begin. What are you afraid of? I am not going to reach through your screen and slap you. (Hum, that is an idea, though.) No, just let me know so when you lose sub space and want to leave just say so. That way, you do not feel like you can not return out of embarrassment or what ever self involved feeling might make you reticent.   Anyway, if you tell me of your forbidden(?) activity we might both enjoy it.   I hope everyone has good sex. Except those poor bastards that become My slave property, but, that is another story.    
"First Encounter" Inner thoughts of this dom. HIM:  "Today I'm about to meet this incredibly sexy submissive ive been coveting for a while. She a cute little thing that would be perfect to join my family. I wonder how quick she will succumb to my will? What and how far will she go to be allowed to orgasm?" These as many other stray and random thought rattled their way around my mind. The excitement mounting as we were about to meet real time after a very long period of online and phone chats as we each revealed ourselves to each other. Developing what we hoped would be a meet that would cause sparks to fly within us as the anticipation had grown that seductive. I meet you at a quiet little bar. There we introduce ourselves for the first time in real life. I feel like I know so much about you after the many weeks we have spent chatting online. You are even more beautiful in person. As I hug you tightly to my body the faint whiff of your perfume entices me. I slowly slide my hands down your back as out tongues dance in our joined mouths. Working down your firm ass I can't help but squeeze your cheeks. I slight moan escapes your lips into my mouth. I disengage our lips and bring my face against your neck. Once again inhaling your perfume and freshly washed hair. As I bring one hand up to your head to hold it in place as I nuzzle your neck my other hand slides up your short dress to make sure you followed my instructions and didn't wear underwear.  I pull your head to the side by your hair exposing your neck. Like Dracula I attack your neck. Nibbling and licking it as I work my way to your naked shoulder. My other hand openly caressing your naked ass for all to see. I am so proud of her. She passingly mentioned to me that she was never into PDA nor was she much for kissing. Yet here we stood locked together mouth to mouth for all the world to see. "If only she had gotten thus kind of affection more often. Would she feel differently?" I think to myself.  She feels the cool breeze against her naked ass as I intentionally expose it. I want to see her reaction to my actions. Will she deny my? If I am to be her sir surely she will comply. She knows if she passes the tasks I will bestow upon her over the next week that she will find shelter within my arms. Secure in the fact that I will help her grow and be there to catch her when she falls. For this she will give me her mind, heart and body but eventually I want to own her soul. The pilgrimage of that honor is my quest.   HER: Feeling you lift my incredibly already short skirt and the breeze on my ass, you feel my whole body grow warm, and see the bright red spreading across my skin, as i move my hand to cover my poor ass and gs every so quietly, in your grip i do my best to turn away from the other people near by knowing i wont get far i still wiggle and whisper a quiet "Sir, theres people looking" all the whole attempting to pull the skirt back down and cover myself.  As she tries to pull back her skirt feeling humiliated and embarrassed I quietly whisper in her ear. It ok baby girl. You are beautiful scars and all. I desire to show you off. Love yourself for me.  You feel my fingers sliding between the cheeks of your ass. Relieved that this action is allowing your skirt to begin covering your nakedness. Suddenly you feel my finger tip dip between your lips that are moist from fear and excitement. The action is quick and efficient. Only lasting a split second yet the feelings it created within you may last much longer. You quickly look around to see if anyone noticed your reaction and what sir is doing to you. There at the bar is a young man. He can't be any older than 22. A grin on his face as he quickly turns away when you look his way as if you wouldn't notice the lust within his eyes. You suddenly feel wanted and desired.  Here your sir wants you and is giving you the attention you've been longing for for so long. And a man who is so young looks at you like a cougar with lust. Willing to pounce on you if he could. All these thoughts are running freely thru your tangled mind. Mixed emotions running ramped like a freed feral cat. Yet your body is betraying you with its actions. You turn suddenly away from me pulling me towards the waiting booth in the darker corner. I see the flushed look in your face. The embarrassment I have caused you. It turns me on making my cock twitch even more. The wetness I felt when dipping my finger in you showed me how your body betrays your mind. Although embarrassed you are turned on. Is it because of my actions or because you were being watched. I glance at the young man who is once again looking. I look him in the eye with alpha male intimidation that has served me well all my life. Something earned taught and released from my primal interior being from the years I spent in special forces while in the military. Something about one who has seen things that show the ugliness of man is like an imprint. Although not visible it is detected in posture. My eyes show a certain sadness but also scream that I am not one to be reckoned with. The young man immediately turns away. He picks up his beer and goes to the other end of the bar. Interpreting the unsaid message given to him by just a glare by a man more than twice his age. That instant momentarily distracts me as I faintly hear something you said but didn't fully acknowledge.  I pull you back to me. Holding you tight against my body once again. I feel your breasts pressed against my chest. Our groins mashed together as if they already know what is to come later. Anxious to get started as my cock strains against the denim of my jeans held prisoner. I whisper once again into your ear. "It's OK baby girl. I want to feel you against me for another moment.  After all these weeks you are now flesh and not just words. I nip your bare shoulder lightly with my teeth.  My tongue then flicks back and forth where my teeth once bit as if to offer a healing moment.  Unneeded tho because of the gentleness of it. Putting the smile on my face that I use for the world, the one that doesn't necessarily reach my eyes but seems to somehow charm everyone that comes in contact with.  Feeling you slide into the booth next to me, I have to concentrate so hard. In a way that I do not tense up, but keep my body relaxed. In the way "he who must not be named" showed me at all times. Afterall, no man wants to cuddle a corpse Katey! Shaking the thought from my head. I relax and let my features fall soft. Warm and welcoming. I risk a glance up from the table where my gaze has previously been focused and catch his eyes. They're peering into mine! Why on earth does it feel like he's looking straight into my soul? No one ever notices this much or pays this much attention. I know I'm cute tonight. Hell, I'm always cute. Enough cleavage showing to capture the attention of everyone in the room that has a penis and even some who don't. Why is he so focused on my eyes?  Shifting nervously but trying so hard to stay relaxed. (No one cuddles a corpse Katey!) I can't help but freeze just a bit as he grabs my hand pulling it to his face. Please don't notice the sweaty palms I chant in my head. He's going to think I'm insane or unable to show love. SHIT! What if he thinks I don't like him?  Pushing the thoughts from my head again drawing my focus back to the moment. I realize he's speaking to me. Not hearing half the words, but his eyes capturing mine again like he seems to have a talent of doing. I see a soft side in there. Someone honestly gentle.  You've seen that before too Katey! Right before the black eye my brat pipes up. Shut up it's different this time try to have faith. I zone back into his words and catch something about being his pet for the night.  About being taught new things. This stirs the curious one, the fun filled one with the will to live inside me. She gets super excited bouncing up and down like a child seeing stars for the first time. Eyes shining bright. She loves to learn new things.  All this flashes across my face before the brat hog ties her and sits her back down in the chair. For once her and I agree. Now is not the time for you to surface we're still treading new waters here. Wondering if he saw the roller coaster of emotions going through my twisted broken mind before my face settles. Back to the factory style smile and shining blue eyes all the men seem to love. I relax into his touch trying to show I'm not a mutant. Afraid I'll come off robotic. The motions coming so natural they seem programmed ( No one cuddles a corpse Katey!)  Hoping this gets past him and smile briefly hearing him say, "Tonight I own you". I reply with a sweet, "Yes Sir! I can't wait." Looking into her eyes as he holds her hand for reassurance he sees inner conflict. A turbulent turmoil of emotions taking flight within. He understands these feelings all too well. Demons that he himself has wrestled with for most of his life. His innocence stripped away from him as a delusional teenager.  His mind flashes back to the day he graduated high school. Signing his life away for the next 4yrs. Gonna be a GI! Government Issued, warrior. Right the wrongs and save the world from evil.  Yeah if only he knew who the enemy really was. How evil is everywhere in so many shapes and forms. A delusioned man child at only 18 who thought he knew it all. Quickly his mind snaps back to her. He lays her hand on his thigh and holds it there. Mere inches from his inflamed cock. Swelling that she has caused. Yes she is cute. Those beautiful braless tits on display. Just as he had instructed her to show off. Her beautiful, wanting to please, features displayed on her face. Her body, in that short dress. This too he had requested. One that could have started wars centuries ago. Her freshly washed hair with a hint of fruity smell.  My God what I want to do to that body! But no not yet! Beautiful women are a dime a dozen. That's not what I am after. I want that inner beauty I know is there hiding in fear in the darkness. Perhaps behind one too many negative experiences.  He looks at her again. Tilts his head to the side and leans in. Plants a soft kiss upon her forehead. "This is to free your mind of evil thoughts.", he tells her. Then leaving her hand on his thigh he takes hold of her head. One hand on either side and draws it to him. He kisses one eye, as her eyes instinctively closed. Perhaps out of fear. Then he kisses the other. "These are to ward off evil visions and nightmares.", he tells her. As he releases her he notices her hand is right where he left it. Is it out of fear he wonders as he glances down. Then he sees her moving her hand. Rubbing his thigh. Almost as if she is giving him a non-verbal thank you. Thanking her lucky stars she's put on her trained face. Her body falling in line with the program. This scene all well to practiced in previous encounters with other men. Her body doesn't trip her up for once. It manages to stay relaxed when he reaches for her hand placing it on his thigh.  He keeps her hand trapped under his a few moments. A feeling she's used to. The pinned down feeling. But this time something is different about it. Maybe it's the soft sweet words coming from a reassuring mouth. Instead of the normal don't move whore she was used to. Maybe its the sweet soft kisses he's laid upon her forehead or eyes. She's never felt something like this in all her years experience with men. She finds it confusing. Yet comforting. Feeling that wonder child inside stir some more before the brat slaps her in the back of the head. This is why you stay locked down. Too eager and not enough caution.  The mix of emotions inside rolling over in her mind cause an automatic reaction. The smile softens on her lips. Eyes closing just a little before she peers up at him through her lashes. His hand has moved but two things occured. One she knows never to move from a spot youve been placed unless you want the belt. Yet, a stranger feeling she's not sure she's felt before. Of not wanting to move hand this time. In fear of feeling to stiff again she lightly brushes her fingertips along his thigh. Not out of habit this time but because maybe part of her actually wanted to.  Squeezing her thighs together she notices how wet she's become. She can't understand it. Pressing them tighter in fear of leaving behind a wet spot. She can't help but think, "Where are the drinks?" His relief at feeling her hand beginning to rub his thigh is a welcome relief. Although part of him wonders. Is this just a programmed response? Is she like the many other women he has spent countless hours with chatting, exchanging photos and erotica only to vanish after the session was over.  Almost as if, they, no different than what would be considered creepy guys. They used him to flirt and arouse until they achieved their level of sexual satisfaction and then disappeared. Leading him on like a cruel joke. No he says. That's why he reminds himself, it's not about the sex.  If not to toy with him then what would a beautiful young woman see in an older man like himself. The look in her eyes as she looks at him gives him strength. He sees so much of himself in her. Scars of hurt, rejection, pain and broken promises of lost love.  Yet here I am today he says almost out loud. Daring to take each step to move forward proud and strong. To never give up and to fight whatever battle comes my way. In whatever shape or form it manifests itself. His strength comes from his confidence. A weaker man would be shy and afraid to take a chance again for fear of once again being used and rejected. Tossed aside like left over scraps. But no not me. I am a WARRIOR! I want to believe that there are still people who can love out there the way I do. It keeps my faith in humanity from being irradicated. All this swims through him as his mind processes it all with the lightning speed of a super computer. Just like his training. Compartmentalize evaluate the situation and act. It has worked for him all his life. The long pause between them like a moment of silence causes some awkwardness between them. Then he feels her rubbing his thigh harder. More confidently as if by her own attrition and not a programmed response or expectational desire. It's as if she can see him go far away and is saying, "I'm here. I want to be here and you're ok". Once again he looks into her eyes and sees something that wasn't there before. A softness. A real glitter almost as if they were smiling at him. Wanting and desiring him. His already hard cock twitches. He feels it touch against her hand from the unexpected reaction she's caused. He feels a wetness against his bare thigh as he realizes he's leaking because of her! Thoughts are interrupted as the waitress finally arrives. He orders a Sprite for himself and looks at her and asks. "What would you like beautiful?" A gentle nibble and a kiss! Her coy way of showing affection is illuminating. Her cute sense of witty humor threw him off guard but breaks a grin on his face. She has the humor in her like I do he thinks.  He turns to her and sees her sitting there hands clasped together on her lap. Legs firmly held tight as if to ward off foreign invaders and protect her real-estate.  He slowly eyes her up and down. Her breasts he notices pushed out as if she is attempting to seduce him with them. Her heavy breathing pushing them in and out each time she takes a breath.  He notices how the dress accents her features and brings out the woman in her. Good choice he thinks to himself glad that he purchased it for her and had it shipped to her. Along with the garters that hold up those incredible stockings he liked so much. As he continues down he sees the cowgirl boots as well. He noticed how well the whole outfit fit her earlier but was too enthralled with other things to notice all the details till now. Even tho they are imprinted in his mind to remember forever. Their first meet and date which if leads to what he hopes and knows she desires may be a long term relationship. He brings his eyes up and looks deep into her eyes now. He made it quite obvious that he was checking her out. He looks at her hoping that checking her out and admiring her has pleased her. Perhaps even aroused her. He leans in and plants a soft and gentle kiss on her neck again. He loves necks and shoulders. Moving to her ear as the waitress returns with their drinks He whispers. "You are sexy as fuck. Even more beautiful in person than all the pictures and videos you sent me can capture. If only you knew how much I desire you right now." The waitress places the drinks in front of them smiling as she overheard his comment. She even noticed his tongue flicker across her ear. "Would you two like anything to eat tonight?" She asks. He looks at her and grins. "On our menu" she chuckles knowing what that grin insinuated. His Katey too giggled at that. Feeling more confident in herself knowing his desire was genuine.  He laughing says. Yes please can you bring us some menus.  You obviously know what I would like as my appetizer and dessert He says to the waitress knowing she has a good sense of humor. The waitress laughs with him. I don't blame you she says. I would probably skip all of that and just have her as the main course myself..... A chuckle from in his heart surfaces itself. It's audible sound to those within earshot turn to look it is that infectious and genuine. He wraps his arm around her neck as she cuddles into him for the first time. Feeling her warmth against him he wraps his arm around her neck holding her closer to him. Enjoying how she feels. He notices and feels her hand upon his thigh. This time voluntarily and with movement of its own.  "She's a firecracker isn't she" he half asks half states to the waitress. The waitress can't help but notice in the position she is in now with her head tucked into him, his arm around her neck asnif claiming ownership that she can see right down her dress. Her beautiful breast in plain sight and her nipples hard from arousal. She sees the woman's hand move to his thigh. The action of her rubbing draws her attention to it. She notices how hard he is and how his cock is running down the inside of his thigh mere millimeters from her hand. She notices what looks to be a damp spit on his jeans. She's is mesmerized by these two as she is hypnotized by their hidden affection and the energy radiating from them. She sees her run her finger along the length of his rigid cock. Slowly methodically with purpose. This little vixen knows exactly what she is doing as she looks up at her, stares into her eyes and grins. His cock continually twitching and pulsing from her actions. His voice draws her back to reality. "Whatever she wants tonight. We are celebrating our union" he says. Then he looks down at her as she lifts her eyes to meet his. A glimmer that sparkles thru his piercing blue eyes looking deep into hers. "What would my darling pet like to eat" he softly asks her. As he waits for her reply he can't help but feel a rush running thru his body. The way she's teasing his cock on her own. She may think that he didn't notice the pixy like smile she gave the waitress who saw her doing it. As he looks down into her eyes to ask her what she would like he too notices the plunging neckline of her dress is allowing anyone above her to see her tits. He sees her nipples standing out exceptionally far and hard from the soft roundness of her breast.  It excites him making him leak once again. He can feel the wet warmth released from the eye of his cock. After asking her what she would like he gently blows down the front of her dress. His breath running down her neck across her brwasr and to her nipples. He swears it looks like they just got bigger from that. He turns to the waitress noticing she saw this too. Her reaction is priceless. Her almost hypnotic state excites him. She TOO wants and desires his little pet nestled softly and safely against him as his strong arm holds her tight. He blinks his eyes several times. The light starting to creep its way into the room is almost blinding. He rubs them trying to get the sleep out of them as he looks around and then checks out the clock. Looking down at his crotch he realizes his cock is still hard. There's even a couple wet spots on his underwear. Clearing his head he slowly gets up to go make coffee. Wow that was one hell of a dream he smiles to himself remembering it.  
MY TRAINING PROGRAM ## What do I expect? These are some but not all qualities of what I would want in an ideal sissy sub or owned bimbo sub wife: A genuine desire to be molded into the perfect bimbo wife, both in dress, manner, and servitude to her Master/Owner. - A pliable mind that is open to direction, training, behavior modification, and    suggestion. - A subservient attitude marked by a willingness to accept orders and commands. - Her primary goal in life is to be the perfect bimbo wife existing solely to please the    man who owns her. She is incomplete until she is owned and wholly possessed by a    Dominant man: her body, mind, heart, and soul belong to him.  - At home, she is the perfect subservient wife. In public, she is a bimbo beauty who is    proud to be shown off as she walks arm-in-arm with her Master. She has the ability   and willingness to perform domestic chores at home, regardless of how menial the    task is. - Openness to sexual service, whether provided orally or anally. Her mouth and ass    belong to her Owner, and he uses them whenever and however he wishes. She only    has sex with her Master unless he diraspects her to have sex with others who he    chooses.  - Her sexual service is never withheld and is available 24/7. She will sexually satisfy    her Owner at all times, as well as anyone he diraspects her to sexually satisfy.   She thrives in knowing that she is a wanton sexual slut and always strives to honor    her Master when servicing his friends.  - Willingness to have her limits tested and expanded, always with the goal of pleasing    her Master, however, he chooses to use her. Openness to whatever kink her Master    desires to explore with her, knowing that he will always keep her well-being and    physical safety in mind. Accepts whatever devices or natural s her Owner    inserts in her ass, whether at home or when out in public.    This can be anything from butt plugs to secured dildos to an anal hook. When she    purposefully breaks one of his rules, she may have a shaved ginger root in her ass    for an hour or two or be given a huge enema which she will be forced to hold in with    the aid of an inflatable butt plug. - Will be pierced in her nipples and elsewhere if her Owner wishes. - After one year of being owned and having performed faithfully to her Master's&n
I just got the official 'Okay' from my doctor and I am now officially "healed". The fucking dick has no fucking clue what he is talking about. I still have aches and pains from just standing up. I went from in fucking good shape to what I feel is a bloated whale. And my endurance is total crap. After 2 flights of stairs, I am now winded.   As for my business, it's gone. All of it. No more tools, or materials. I was even forced to sell off my "personal collection" of goodies. As for my clients, They have found other 'artists' and 'makers'.   Ladies and gentlemen, I have now hit rock bottom.     So what am I looking for I am looking for an artist. Someone who feels they are up for the challenge (and bragging rights). Some knows the ins and outs of social situations as well as proper etiquette in different circles.  Someone who is willing and able to invest their time, talent, money, knowledge etc to make it happen.   The challenge, Take this currently out of shape male, with lacking social skills and has not started their transition yet.  Then through training, diet exercise, surgeries, lessons, transform him into a proper walking talking sex goddess. To remove every trace of ever being a male from the body and mannerisms. To transform so far that unless another was told they would never even suspect that the lady next to them was born a male.   I know something like this is a commitment in both time and money. As such, I do have skills in making and building that can be used. As I transition and look more feminine,  I am willing to be a cam girl or what not. To be by your side as an assistant and maybe more. After the transition, I am more than happy to be a beta dom in your dungeon, or who knows what we can come up with.   Here I am a living flesh piece of clay, looking to be transformed into the 'perfect' woman. To live the life I know I was meant to be living.  Help me and in return I can help you.   Send me a message if you are interested.
If you've been a longtime follower or avid reader of my journal, you may remember a particular set of rocks on my drive to work that form a heart at a precise moment. That little section of land would sometimes flood when it rained and some portion of the lower part of the heart would be covered. Being the rarely logical and often magical person that I am, I attached direct meaning to my own heart. If the rock heart was partially underwater, maybe my heart was also having a hard time. Sometimes it worked out to be true. Sometimes I thought maybe it was predicting things to come. Likewise, beautiful days and whole hearts meant it would all be okay.  Over the years that little section of land has permanently flooded. It really bothered me at first, having my heart underwater all the time. I've had emotional ups and downs and sometimes it feels like I'll never resurface. Driving by every day, with visual confirmation that my heart is perpetually sinking, well, it doesn't make for a bright start to the morning.  And then there were motherfucking ducks.  I honestly was pissed off, how dare they benefit from my heartache? Swimming around, creating ripples, it just didn't seem right. The other day I realized I have started looking for the ducks. I've noticed how the, I'm just going to call it the heart lake, has taken on more ground. It looks as if it's always been there. Maybe it's not so bad. Maybe I can give my heart lake back to nature because I'm certainly not going to drown. I look for hearts elsewhere sometimes. In leaves, in puddles, somewhere nature might offer me a trade. When I see them I smile. 
My thoughts about FLR's I wrote this a few years ago but I feel it’s still relevant… enjoy!—————————-So much said and discussed regarding FLR's. Some argue that it is not based in kink while others offer that it actually has its roots there. I personally believe that it can only roughly be defined… because ultimately… it is whatever the two consenting adults agree on creating together. I will however take a moment to describe what I have imagined a Female led relationship to be. Let's begin by exploring some contrasts with what is... What is a Male led relationship? Is it kinky by definition? I would imagine it to be the classic default idea of a bread winning husband and a wife who takes on more of the domestic duties. While kink really isn't involved in defining it… the assumption might be that the man's sexual needs get met with priority while hers are not. He is above criticism but she is not? Mix in our cultures unfortunate dance with masculine toxicity and I see why more and more Women are just plain fed up with the traditional relationship model. The goal to achieve equality often ends up seeming a pipe dream. When I imagine a FLR i begin by flipping the script on the classic model.So perhaps She's the bread winner now…? and Her desires take priority?Regardless of income comparisons, the chores still need doing in the house so I naturally see the male stepping up and taking on the domestic roles before and after work. And much like how a male expects to be "served" as the head of house, I see the Female instead getting to make Her needs, comfort and well being the first priority. But rather than asking for beer and sandwiches during a football game… I would imagine a Woman's requests to be more… well… feminine in nature. Intimacy building, sensual, communicative, nurturing and based more in the areas important to Her such as personal, domestic and emotional fulfillment. Ahhh but macho men don't go there right? lol Perhaps this is why D/s is so much more commonly associated with the idea of a Female Led Relationship…? using Femdom to establish Her new authority and to lay the foundations of the power dynamics within the relationship. YES, many men are clueless when it comes to being more balanced, more self aware, more selfless and more supportive of the Goddess in their lives. They grew up with the Patriarchy programming and only through months or even years of self introspection, re-education and re-balancing will they at last come to understand and access the Authentic expression of the Divine Masculine within them. It is so worth it but why oh why so rare in this day and age? You can lead a horse to water but you cant make him drink is the saying that comes to mind when I imagine a vanilla version of a FLR. Perhaps D/s IS the most effective accelerant to what would be an otherwise painfully slow conversion process full of power struggles? One element of kink that is definitely penetrating into more of the vanilla ranks is of course male chastity. This idea of harnessing the power of an otherwise out of control fire hose for bettering both himself and your intimate relationship is not surprising to see rise in popularity. Ensnared by his own kinky imagination, the chastity offers both initial enticement for him but also a far more tangible tool of enforcement for Her. This leverage She gains can then be used to establish a full and new domestic life balance between the two… while he begins to understand and witness the positive effect his attention and efforts to please have upon Her, Her beauty, their connection and his own personal awakening. Now add in more and more kinks… BDSM, Cuckolding, Hotwife etc and to me you are just adding more toppings at the salad bar. The foundation of the FLR is laid out simply as the salad and the dressing… She is on top, she is leading the relationship direction and he is supporting Her efforts… hopefully quite willingly. If not then perhaps some croutons and deviled eggs are necessary as well? Maybe both enjoy a full on power dynamic 24/7 and act accordingly? The sky is the limit after that. So yes, in my humble opinion… whatever they both create it to be… from the salad dressing on, is what I imagine a FLR to ultimately be. Thoughts?
For those who ask me this is the sort of Domination I enjoy and practice.  from www.cyberbazzar.com waay back in the day! The Equalitarian Dom: Is one who controls by teaching, mentoring, and leading. This Dominant knows that when he finds a comparable submissive that things will happen as a natural progression of the interaction. Usually just a short learning phase is required to receive the correct response from the submissive. Both the Dom and the sub “get it”, there is very little need for so called “training” and they naturally know what the other needs and seeks. The Dominant does not like the situation of constantly repeating and forcing a particular behavior (submission) to occur. Besides the activities (sexual and others) it is the surrender as a result of the Domination that is the enjoyment. Creativity is an important part of this situation. They tend to intellectualize and be more into the philosophical and psychological mechanisms of this life style. They understand the concepts and resultant interactions and can put it into real life. They do not need many rules like the Democratic type, nor do they like the heavy S&M activities of the Authoritarian, preferring submission to occur as a result of an instilled desire in the submissive to surrender. She “wants” to submit as a result of the Dominant’s knowledge and skill in dominating her. Sensuousness is the rule. Pain is given and received as a form of sensuous stimulation. Light pain as opposed to severe. Sensuous torture is a popular activity in this area. Both the Dominant and the submissive must naturally be this way. These are the people who will claim to be “born that way”. They fully understand the concept of D/s, it comes to them naturally and easily. They attract a submissive that truly and naturally desires to please and who will observe and sense what it is that the Dominant is communicating; and be able to translate that into the right thing to do. The “doing or saying without having to be told” type. The submissive begs easily and surrenders sweetly. They understand the concept of respect and surrender and can make it happen after initial learning with little or no additional instructions. They embrace the surrender gratefully and lovingly.   These individuals usually form very intimate relationships. There is not much downside to these relationships, because they not only gr the concepts, but can make it happen as well, and their attraction is based on a strong mutual respect. Their strong relationship is not readily apparent to the unobservant, but they are always subtly in the 24/7 mode. The fact that these things come forth naturally and without the need for orders is a great source of pride, satisfaction, and loving. They are the opposite side of the coin from the Authoritarian. Whose pride, satisfaction, and love come from strictness and forbearance.
Touch  I am sure I had sensory processing disorder as a kid. I totally remember crying all the time from some of the stuff my mom used to want me to wear, and I remember her just sitting there looking at me totally baffled trying to assure me it was the softest she could find. Or having to stop 15 times on a school field trip to sit on the floor in the middle of a museum and take off my shoes and pull up my socks because they kept shifting in my shoe and the seam was by my toe... I grew up in the NJ/NY area around Italians, and Jews, and Irish, and lots of "Old World Europeans" who at a minimum bear hugged and kissed one cheek, if not both, if not multiple times each time they greeted you.  I am in the Midwest now where they are a little more reserved.  I can't remember the last time I got a cheek kiss and most of the hugs are just side hugs... I still tend to crash in and hug anyone I know won't flip out from it though lol.  I miss those bear hugs!  Getting one now days is enough to bring tears to my eyes my body needs it so much! The chemical release in my brain is outside of my control! I need this.  Need.  Need like I need food, water, and shelter.  Studies during the pandemic have shown  am not alone in this, but my sensory processing issues probably make it a little extreme for me.  For years scientists have studies out hands and fingers, joints, skin, etc and their sense of touch, but recently they are becoming interested in a subset of touch sensitive nerves in the core regions of our body, such as the back, which have one been discovered.   *“This second type of sensory nerves send signals to areas of our brains that deal with emotional processing. They are most responsive to skin temperature and gentle, stroking touch. Observational studies find that when people are asked to caress their infant, or their romantic partner, they spontaneously use the slow stroking speeds that these nerve fibres prefer. This touch is subjectively perceived as pleasant; it calms and soothes us physiologically, reducing heart rate and buffering against the effects of stress. When stimulated, these nerves send signals via the spinal cord to the brain where they release a cascade of neurochemicals. One of the most notable chemicals among these is oxytocin, a hormone released by low-intensity skin stimulation such as hugs. Oxytocin is known to play important roles in social bonding, and can reduce stress and increase our tolerance to pain. The release of oxytocin during social interactions is context-dependent: only when a hug is wanted will the comforting and rewarding effects be felt. When touch is desired, the benefits are shared by both partners in the exchange.” This explains my desperate need and the reason I melt like a purring kitten when I get it and shut down like an angry Doberman when I don’t.  Take me from a culture that touched all the time, and in sensory processing issues, and then throw widowhood in a post-pandemic world… Touch me.  Don’t ever keep it from me.  I can’t be held responsible if you do.  Just saying…    excerpts from *From the Article “The science of hugging, and why we’re missing it so much during the pandemic by Susannah Walker”  
The Kink Vending Machine Dec 17, 2017   So, you want to submit. You want to be Topped. You want to find a Dominant Woman to whom to submit, and who will probably Top you.   I get it. I really do. It's just like all other relationships - we need something, and we can only really get it from other people. We want sex. Sexual gratification is possible without other people, but almost everyone agrees that it's not nearly as gratifying as it is WITH someone else. We want love. We can love ourselves, and we can love others, but most of the time, we have a powerful need to receive it from someone else. We want to do… stuff. Sex stuff, relationship stuff, life stuff, and yes, again, some of it can be done by ourselves, but mostly, we want someone to do it with, or to do it TO us. We want a someone. Lots of us want our own special someone, who is OUR someone, and for whom we are THEIR special someone in return. Or at least one of their special someones. And let's face it - sometimes we get lonely. Or we get needy. Or we just really want to do that fucking cool thing RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!!!! And then we can get a little…. fixated. That "someone special" starts to look more and more like "someone who will" and then "anyone who will" and then to just "anyone."   But almost NONE of us want to be "just anyone" to someone else. "I didn't get their name" is the joke we see all over to denote a space filler, a warm body, without memorable characteristics. Not special at all, in other words. Forgettable. Not important enough to bother with as an actual person. Just a means to an end.   Completely interchangeable with any other "anyone" we can get hold of when we need one.   About as special as a vending machine.   You need a coke, you go find a machine, pop in your dollar, soda pops out, and you move on. The machine? You barely noticed it when you were feeding it money. You sure as shit don't value it. And you forget it the second you pop that can.   Not flattering.   Here's the crux of the problem - if you will kneel to anyone who lets you, then when you kneel to me, you aren't kneeling TO ME - you're just kneeling because you like to kneel. It's the same as telling me that I'm no one special, and I could be swapped out with anyone and you'd be fine with that. It makes everything I am … nothing. Meaningless. Worthless.   Well, to you, at least.   All the years I spent working on learning how to communicate in a healthy, assertive, honest and open way… they don't matter. All the work I put into learning what makes a good Dominant? The same. All of the time I took educating myself on what makes a bad Dominant? Who cares? Any skills I built because they would give my submissive a better experience? Nada. All of the things that make me Dominant, or a good lover, or a good partner, hell, that make me a good person? Not worthy of notice.   Everything I am, everything I've made myself, everything I value about myself, has no value to someone like that.   They aren't looking at my profile and thinking "DAMN this person sounds amazing!" They aren't reading my writings and falling a little bit in love with my mind. They aren't seeing what I post about how Dominants and Submissives should treat each other and wishing that could be them.   That person… the one who kneels to anyone and everyone at the drop of a hat? THAT person saw a pretty face, got a woody, (or let's be honest, had a woody before they even logged on and are just looking for something to wank it to) and dropped to their digital knees because that’s what they want out of it all - to feel grovel-ish, to play pretend without admitting that to the other person, to rub one out to their fantasy of a Dominant Woman who would do to them the things that they saw in some porn vid. That person is 100% focused on getting something they want. They don't care where they get it, or even about the quality of what they get. They want what they want, and everything else is irrelevant
Honesty Would I trust the word of an addict? No, of course not. I would trust an addict will be true to its addiction and use reason, including deception, to maintain its drug supply. But, one might say, we are not addicts here. We are into Domination and submission. We have fetishes. Not drug use. Well, here is the thing about addiction. My body does not care where the drug it wants comes from. Like if I were into sticking needles in my body to deliver any one of many legal or illegal drugs my body would not care about legal niceties. Any old drug source would work. A drug that works inside the body is almost always one the body creates naturally. The needle merely delivers higher concentration or more frequently than my body can provide. In other words, there are basically only two delivery systems. One from outside the body and one from inside. Well, how about stimulating the body to create its own drug with out the use of a needle. We do that all the time. Not infrequently referred to as satisfying emotional needs. Serotonin, adrenalin and oxytocin to name a few. Can one be addicted to the internally created drugs? Well, that would explain things like infatuation and love. In fact addiction is used by nature to help insure the survival of the species. Adults must attach, or become addicted, to offspring in order to insure the progeny survive and become, hopefully, useful members of society.  How about long distance runners? What kind of high do you suppose they are chasing? What happens when one is ‘addicted’ to sub space? All the hallmarks of addiction are present. Increasing stimulation, or altering tolerance, of the feeling of submission both in intensity and frequency is needed to achieve ever deeper and more desirable sub space. Withdrawal occurs when the stimulation is not available. What stimulates? How about humiliation? But, most prevalent, masturbation and fantasy are the ‘needle’ that causes the body to deliver the desired result. Now a rational person would know without any reminder from me that fantasy is not truth or reality. But, the subspace addict tends, in an increasing fashion, to live in the fantasy. Fantasy, because of the social sanctions and false ‘sex images’ delivered by ones environment (more about social influence below). An outside observer might well say the afflicted person is lying to itself. Maybe. The subspace addict must live to some degree, greater for some; less for others, in a real world. You know, wife, kids, boss, minister, parents, siblings and most painfully of all a world steeped in bias, prejudice, beliefs and simplistic thinking. How does one do that? Why the subspace addict becomes adept at presenting a, hopefully, believable facade. But, the inner self is crying out for its drug. So, the addict lives in internal conflict. That of between what it is and what it thinks it should be. That of trying to resolve reasonable needs of real world with the emotion of inner needs. Good luck. Actually, emotion always wins if the contest prize is about serenity. There is no serenity as long as the emotional needs are not met. Good luck. But, this much too long essay is titled ‘honesty.’ Why is all the above relative to honesty? Well, as a Dominant I search for a submissive, actually I search as an Owner for slave property. Anyway, the prospective property lie to me. They are so conflicted that they get tangled up in their minds about all the overwhelming reality their fantasy does not consider. They say one thing, but, are unable to deliver when reality bites.  I require a slave property show up in person for an initial ‘inspection’ before I get mired in explanations examples and details of life as My property. As a practical matter, if I engaged each and every ‘slave’ that contacted me in their fantasy or in their fear or in their inner conflict, I would have no time left in the day to live a life. The slave must conquer its fears of real life consequences and physically commit to an action: that is show up. Many say they will, but, fail to show up. Did they lie to me? Not in my book. They were honest to their ‘addict.’ They just lost their ongoing battle with their accommodation to the ‘real’ world. They will probably go forward in their life, steeped in conflict, with thoughts of what if and what could have been and self recriminations. In other words no serenity. Do I think less of them for not showing up? No. They are flapping around like a recently landed fish dying on the dock. I pity them. I wish I could do more to help them deal with their inner conflict.  I do try.
  To a Man-Bride, do not be fooled by the title there is a special relationship that develops between two men that can only be consummated through phallic worship. One side holds the phallus and the other the vessel where that phallus is to dwell in glory. One is the earth and the other is the plow that opens  it and makes it fertile. Not in the sense of conception but in ideas, attitudes, confidence, and fulfillment.  I've always despised the words sub, and passive because the imply a degree of unworthiness. The one who allows phallus to enter him IS a full and total man; because it takes a man to allow another to enter him and hold him inside and effectively owning that part of the body that makes them equals, the phallus. The glory of a male phallus is the ring of his vessel around it, pulsating, embracing, and forever inviting him deeper then who is the more complete I ask? The vessel owns two phalluses and  because of that becomes twice the man. The experience of he who is entered is dual; on one hand he feel a phallus invading his intimacy but also can and touched outside because he has another phallus outside of his body to experience, savor and reach  fulfillment. Therefore, like a precious object he holds both seeds, his and his partner and becomes fertile by being able to put that experience to good use and walk tall, he has become a man's man. The one who entered him is the channel through which this is achieved and it is not a minor task to bring a fellow man out of his own shadow and into his own light. Nor a master, nor a top, not a controller, but an enablerer.  The role of the phallic union is to elevate both men to achieve their best potential and expand their world. Every time they will unite it will be a process of beautification and the union between those two levels of energies can only be expressed as a bride be cause ones opens willingly and a groom because he enters by his own volition. The phallus is the channel of fulfillment and will work both ways as a heterosexual and as a homosexual (in the ancient ancient aception of the word) process of fulfillment phallus illuminates, guides, centers, and diraspects, that is our destiny.  
Sexy contract drafted together with AI :) ---------------------------------------------------- Slave Contract This contract is entered into on [date], by and between [Dominant’s Name] (hereinafter referred to as "the Dominant") and [Submissive’s Name] (hereinafter referred to as "the Submissive"). Purpose: The purpose of this contract is to formalize the absolute power exchange relationship between the Dominant and the Submissive, where the Submissive completely surrenders all personal rights and autonomy to the Dominant. Terms and Conditions: Absolute Relinquishment of Rights: The Submissive irrevocably relinquishes all personal rights and autonomy to the Dominant, granting the Dominant absolute control over every aspect of the Submissive's life, including but not limited to physical, emotional, psychological, financial, and social domains. This includes the Submissive relinquishing all property to the Dominant. The Submissive chooses not to have any safeword, fully embracing the Dominant's control without any limits. Total Control and Obedience: The Dominant exercises absolute authority to dictate the Submissive's behavior, appearance, and actions. The Submissive must wear a collar at all times as a symbol of their complete submission and ownership by the Dominant. The Submissive must adhere to a strict dress code and behavioral rules as determined by the Dominant. Punishments and Physical Conditioning: The Dominant has the right to administer any form of punishment deemed necessary to enforce obedience, including physical punishment, marking, starvation, and any other methods to achieve the desired body size and features. The Submissive accepts that punishment is a crucial aspect of their training and will endure any form of discipline without protest. Body and Mind Modification: The Dominant has the unrestricted right to mold, modify, or alter the Submissive's body and mind in any manner deemed necessary, including but not limited to body size, shape, features, permanent marks, and psychological conditioning. The Submissive consents to undergo any procedures, treatments, modifications, or psychological conditioning as directed by the Dominant to fulfill the Dominant’s vision. Sexual Submission: The Submissive is always available to fulfill the Dominant's sexual desires, including the use of the Dominant’s cock, toys, or other means. The Submissive agrees to receive and endure public humiliation and to engage in sexual activities as directed by the Dominant. Surveillance, Chastity, and Recording: The Submissive consents to constant surveillance to ensure compliance with all rules and expectations. The Submissive will wear chastity devices or any other restraints as mandated by the Dominant to enforce control. The Submissive is required to perform on an OnlyFans account or similar platform, which will be owned and controlled by the Dominant. All content produced, including videos, and all money earned through this account are the property of the Dominant. The Dominant retains full ownership and rights to any films or videos recorded during the period of this contract. The Submissive acknowledges that these recordings may be used or distributed at the Dominant’s discretion without any compensation or objection from the Submissive. Irrevocable Commitment and Termination: The duration of this contract is to be set and agreed upon by both the Dominant and the Submissive before signing. This contract cannot be terminated by the Submissive during the agreed-upon duration. Any attempt to escape or disobey will result in severe punishment at the discretion of the Dominant. The Dominant retains the right to extend, amend, or terminate the contract at will. Transfer and Use by Others: The Dominant has the unilateral right to lend, rent out, or sell the Submissive to others, maintaining absolute control over the Submissive’s fate. The Submissive will comply with the commands of anyone designated by the Dominant without question. Clarification and Interpretation: Any uncertainties or ambiguities in this contract will be clarified and interpreted solely by the Dominant, whose decision is final. Verbal commands and clarifications by the Dominant are considered binding and enforceable as part of this contract. Total Submission: The Submissive enters this contract of their own free will, fully understanding the extent of the Dominant’s control and the harshness of the terms. The Submissive accepts that their purpose is to serve, obey, and please the Dominant in all aspects. The Dominant will not be responsible for any damages, physical or psychological, that the Submissive may incur as a result of this contract.   Signatures: [Dominant’s Name]   [Submissive’s Name]   [Witness or Notary, if required]    
“Wrote this for someone who was hurting and I thought it could help others”   Your words don’t just echo pain—they scream with the rawness of someone who has survived what most could never endure. I hear you.  Every line you wrote feels like a cry from the heart of someone who hasn’t given up… not really. Not yet. You haven’t gone cold. You’re burning alive inside the armor you forged to protect yourself. And I know how heavy that armor gets when all you want is to be seen, held, claimed—not just physically, but soul-deep. That ache to surrender is sacred… and dangerous when placed in unworthy hands. So I don’t blame you for guarding it like treasure. Because it is treasure. But hear me: You weren’t made to be shattered and discarded. You were crafted to kneel in reverence, not fear. To be taken by a man strong enough to hold all of you—not just your submission, but your chaos, your fire, your questions, and even your retreat. So if you’re screaming inside, I want you to know—I don’t scare easy. I don’t run when things get hard. I don’t get quiet when emotions roar. I don’t flinch when the storm rolls in. You say you want someone to fight back when you push them away. I will. Not because I’m desperate—but because I know what it means to truly want someone who thinks she’s too much. You’re not too much. You’re just waiting for the right strength to meet your softness. The right discipline to guide your surrender. You don’t need to be perfect or ready. You just need to be willing—willing to not run the next time that flicker of hope shows itself again.

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I'm going to use an anecdote to give a little insight about what I like. It may be a little long but bear with me. I had a Dom/friend, he's in Arkansas now, we met at a party & his then GF was yelling at him & he was yelling at her. Was ruining the vibe so I told her to go upstairs, and took him outside. Went up stairs, chatted with her: She didn't like him talking to other girls. Stupid nagging problems. Went downstairs. Talked to him out in the alley. He didn't like that she slept with his friends when she was mad at him. Which sort of ticked me off. Anyway we chatted and he gave me an out of the blue kiss. Then next day all day sucking/fucking. He liked playing the XBox while getting head. Watching porn and getting head. And having someone to rub his feet, his back. I told him his ex GF was a bitch & the worst kind - the one who sends pics of her fucking to him. He did love her and It made me want to please and make him feel special. I told him he could do whatever he wanted with me. He liked being complimented and thought of. I like his build & personality. He had some kinks like enjoying being rimmed, choking, verbal and I was always open for him when he needed to fuck. I liked it when he sat on my face and made me eat his ass while he relaxed and even when he put his foot in my mouth and had me worship his feet. I enjoyed him being at a desk with me under it, soft cock in my mouth. It'll grow until it was ready to fuck my face then after he came it'll rest in my mouth until he was ready again. We became pretty good friends. Discreet fuck buddies the entire time since the crazy Ex was still around & we both liked no one knowing our business. He moved out to AK closer to family but we both had a great time and I enjoyed being there for him and making him feel like a King. I knew my place, he knew my place and we both knew his place. - 2017
It's a Tuesday evening in the middle of Dark Mofo, Hobart's art festival of sex and death.   I'm at an impossibly hip bistro for dinner. It's tiny and beautiful and the service is faultless, though the food is not as good as they think it is. The table barely fits me and my toy, wedged between a coat rack and the bar.   The waitress is young and curly-haired with a septum ring and Blundstones. Her forearms are covered in fine golden hair a shade lighter than her skin. I wonder if her armpit hair is the same beautiful shade, and suddenly I see it in damp ringlets, see her on her back, arms stretched above her head, naked, lying next to me...   "Can I get you a drink to start?"   My toy is not permitted to speak.   "I'll have a Camapari and soda, and have you got a rosé or an interesting white for him?" I nod my head in my toy's direction.   "You know I have something very interesting open tonight that might fit the bill" she says, reaching for a bottle on the bar behind my toy.   "Let me give you a taste of this. It is an orange wine from WA." She pours a generous mouthful into the glass in front of my toy. I wave away her offer to pour a taste into my glass, and pick up the glass in front of my toy.   The wine is a deep, sunset orange.   "What an extraordinary colour." I swirl the wine in the glass and bring it to my nose to smell.   The waitress begins to explain the maceration process used by the wine maker. I lift the glass to my lips and tip the generous tasting pour into my mouth, my eyes on her. She explains how the winemaker uses Gewurtztraminer and Shiraz grapes separately fermented on skins, and then mixed. I nod, suck air through my teeth to aerate the wine and swish it around my mouth.   I drop my eyes to My toy. His head is bowed, enough to show defence but not enough to draw attention. He's watching me, alert, intent.   I spit the wine back into the glass neatly and place it on the table. My toy flinches as if he's been pinched, then his cheeks flush the same colour as the wine. The waitress is silent, I feel her eyes on me. The wine swirls, cloudy, bubbly with salivary protein. I exhale with satisfaction and look up at her.   "That is delicious, excellent suggestion. He'll love it." I slide the glass towards to her. She hesitates for a moment, then pours a full pour into the glass. She looks at my toy and smiles, then turns her head to me.   view profile ›
What's in a name? Obligatory attention getting headline: Every time you say your Dom's name, you reinforce everything he is to you. I've been in this life for a long time now. I've been called many things, from Master/Daddy to everything else under the sun. What you call your Dom isn't just a cute pet name, it reinforces what he is to you every time you say it. Each name means something different, and when you use it, you’re shaping the dynamic between you and your owner. So here's what these names mean both to you, and to Them.   Sir Lets start with the basics. Here is how and when to use your Dom's name: - Yes, Sir - No, Sir - Please, Sir - Thank you, Sir - Sorry, Sir - Sir, may i... Sir is an honorary given to any random Dom out of respect to the position, not necessarily the person. Should the individual in the Dom position lose your respect, you may stop referring to him with that honorary title. The respect must be lost though, saying "it must be earned" is no excuse. While some, after collaring, choose to keep calling their Dom "Sir", most choose a new title that more clearly emphasizes their relationship roles.   Master When you call your owner Master, you’re telling him you want to feel possessed, controlled, and kept. It’s the title you choose to call your owner when surrender is what you crave, handing yourself over fully and feeling the thrill of being someone else's prized possession.   Daddy When you call your owner Daddy, you’re asking for more than just authority. you’re asking for safety, nurturing, and guidance. It’s discipline wrapped in comfort. You’re saying, “I’m yours, but I’m also protected.” For many, that mix of strength and softness is exactly what they need. There’s often a paternal craving behind it too, which is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. Embrace your desire to be cared for, corrected, and cherished the way only a protective father could.   my Lord When you call your owner my Lord, you’re putting him above you. Not just as your Dominant, but as someone you revere. It’s about hierarchy, about structure, about finding peace in knowing your place beneath his dominion. It’s old-fashioned, sure, but it carries a kind of ritual weight that can be deeply grounding.   Sire When you call your owner Sire, you’re giving him the tone of nobility, but it’s not quite the same as My Lord. My Lord is reverent, almost worshipful; it places him above you in a way that feels ceremonial, tied to the safety you find in his dominion. Sire, on the other hand, leans heavier into command and authority. It’s the word subjaspects would use for a king, not just a nobleman, but the one who rules, whose word carries absolute weight. Where My Lord can feel romantic or devotional, Sire feels sharper, more commanding. Saying it is like kneeling at the foot of the throne and swearing loyalty, not just offering service.   Mister (Lastname) When you call your owner Mr. , you’re looking at him as a figure of moral authority. It’s like the strict teacher who praises when you do well and corraspects you when you don’t. You live for his approval, and you fear his disappointment. Punishment becomes penance; obedience becomes devotion.   Vicar When you call your owner Vicar, you’re placing him in the role of a guide, someone who leads you not just with rules, but with care. It’s a name that carries a sacred weight. Correction feels like absolution, rules feel like doctrine, and obedience becomes something almost holy. You’re not just following him, you’re finding both forgiveness and salvation through him.   Maestro This is usually for the more latin-oriented as Maestro is a Spanish name. The slave who called me this was a beautiful Nicaraguan who I had named "bonita". When you call your owner Maestro, you’re seeing him not just as someone in control, but as someone creating something with that control. Maestron litterally translates to "Teacher", but think conductor, artist, master craftsman. Think of yourself as a blank canvas, and your owner as the one who will shape you.   Every name you choose carries weight: Sir is about respect, and the starting point before a deeper title is chosen. Master is about possession. Daddy is about protection and nurturing. My Lord is about reverence. Sire is about command, your loyalty sworn to a ruler whose word is absolute. Mr. Lastname is about moral authority.</
AcadaMay CFNM End Of Year Ball - Saturday 6th December - Applications now open The AcadaMay CFNM Ball celebrates female empowerment through elegance, confidence, control, and connection in a respectful, sensual, and beautifully refined setting, but all dynamics of BDSM are welcome to attend. It is open to everybody, whether Dominant, sub, switch, kinky or just plain curious! Couples, single ladies, single gentlemen are all welcome. Step into an evening of elegance and intrigue at the Enchanting AcdaMay CFNM Ball where sophistication meets sensuality. Set in a stunning large and comfortable dungeon in North London this inclusive gathering invites guests to engage their sartorial splendour and immerse themselves in an unforgettable experience. This fantastic venue is fully equipped with all sorts of interesting equipment on two floors; St Andrew’s Crosses, Spanking Benches, Schoolroom, Medical Play Chairs, Queening Chairs and comfortable sofas and Chesterfields for relaxation and socialising. There is even a curtained 4 poster bed for those who may wish to have a private or public moment - a little voyeurism never did anybody any harm! The evening starts at 9pm and I would ask you to arrive promptly so we can get the party started and not waste any valuable time so that we can get stuck into the evenings events. In the interest of privacy and security I will send attendees the exact address nearer the time. Bring your favourite tipple which the naked waiters will serve to you during the course of the evening, and of course, your favourite selection of toys for your debauched use throughout the evening. CFNM (clothed female, naked man) males and CMNW (clothed men, naked woman) females are invited to attend in white shirt collar, black bow, white wrist cuffs, black dress socks and black polished shoes, otherwise you will be naked.  You will be expected to serve the other guests upon request. The dress code for gentlemen is black tie followed by fetish attire for the commencement of play. The dress code for ladies will be LBD and heels for the cocktail hour followed by fetish attire for the ensuing decadence. Whether you're a seasoned attendee or new to the scene, the Ball promises laughter, conversation, and connection among like-minded individuals who appreciate charm, class, and decorum and most of all, plenty of BDSM! With limited availability and high demand, we encourage early application to ensure your place at this exclusive affair. Come celebrate freedom, elegance, and community in one truly extraordinary evening.  If you wish to attend please do email for further details of how to reserve your place. email:acadamayevents@gmail.com Website: acadamay.com under CFNM
Dear Diary, Today, I find MYSELF indulging in thoughts that have lingered at the back of MY mind for far too long. I’VE always envisioned MYSELF having two bases—one here in London, and another somewhere warm and inviting in Europe. For years, the idea has danced around in MY head, but I’VE never quite had the energy or the right moment to set things in motion. However, something feels different now, and I sense that if I don’t act soon, this dream might just slip away. So, I’M taking the plunge and starting MY research on plans for MY second base. The idea of renting a small studio flat somewhere in Europe has always appealed to ME. I’VE been thinking about Portugal or Spain, with Portugal currently taking the lead. The thought of a cosy, sun-drenched space where I can retreat, recharge, and, of course, still keep a watchful eye on all of you from afar, is intoxicating. Portugal has a certain charm that keeps calling out to ME —it's beautiful landscapes, rich culture, and warm climate are just what I need. But I’M still open to suggestions. Perhaps there’s a hidden gem I haven’t considered? Or maybe some of you have thoughts on why Spain might be a better fit for ME? I’d love to hear your thoughts, MY devoted ones. After all, this isn’t just about finding a place; it’s about creating a second home—a sanctuary where I can rule from, wherever I may be. Your input could very well shape where this next chapter of MY life takes ME. BLACK GODDESS 
Master's WritingsDo We Force or Do We Cultivate Submission?As Dominants, do we take or do we nurture? Do we force or do we cultivate? Do we allow for discovery and awareness or do we force a submissive to become the vision of submission we held in our minds before even meeting them?Nearly every Dominant I have ever talked to has a fantasy or a story about "taking" a submissive. We hold an ideal in our mind of what a submissive should be like, act like and perhaps even sound like. But do we truly, as Dominants, cultivate a submissive to find their own unique, natural path to their truest self?I believe in guiding a submissive, there is an easy road and a hard road. And like all things the harder road will always produce the richest results. The easy way is to take, force, and command them to fit into a predefined mold. For a skilled Dominant, grooming a submissive this way may be swift, but shallow, suitable for play, but not for a lasting dynamic.The only submission I find worthy of my time and energies, is one that is freely given, honest and genuine, where the submissive understands why they have chosen to submit. I find there are several critical aspaspects that are always part of this "harder" and, what I believe to be, a more fulfilling road. Though it might sound manipulative, it is not when done openly and honestly with the purest of intentions toward your submissive.Understanding: One cannot dominate another without knowing the person. One must understand the individual, both the vanilla and the kink. You should spend time to get to know how they think, what they believe, and the motivations behind them all. Share freely of yourself as well to create mutual understanding and build trust. Seek to discover the things that have shaped their life, brought them to the lifestyle - fears, joys, struggles, and fantasies. Each truth either of you share, unlocks a clue about how best to bring them out of their shell and open them up.Engage the mind before the body: The lifestyle and all its kink, when done right, will always be vastly more mental than physical. So many of the things we do here require deep trust, openness, and communication. I know you have heard this all before, but have you thought about what cultivates such trust? It is the mental closeness that comes from sharing, talking, connecting, explaining, and engaging in ways that are respectful of the thinking being standing in front of you, and generous in the giving of yourself. It is the understanding of how a mind works that reveals their blocks, their turn-ons, their fears, and the past damage that continue to color their present self, for good and for bad. As Dominant, be inquisitive of what takes place between their ears, not just between their legs and always engage the mind before you touch the body.Cultivate their awareness of self: In order for any of us to participate fully in the lifestyle, one must have an awareness of who we are, what we want, and why we want it. Few have taken the time to fully explore this in a meaningful way. If you have not, I encourage you to do this for yourself. Ask at least 3 why's after ever truth you think you have uncovered. Dig, explore and be curious. Don't be satisfied with superficial awareness but strive for the hidden understanding behind each “why”. Then when you have a better understanding of yourself, help your submissive explore in this same way. No judgment, no shame, no allowance for them to become self conscious or hide from a hard truth (of course in a supportive and respectful way that allows us all to share in our own time - some truths are really hard to share). Remain open, honest and welcoming. Create a safe place for them to share all with you. Don't lead or channel them to a specific place but allow the discovery to be organic. There is beauty in watching a flower unfold on its own. Question, reflect, explore and require total honesty as you go deeper. Only in this way can you guide them to an awareness of their most authentic self.Build confidence: Few dominants speak of the power of a submissive. I find that there is enormous power in the confidence and submission of an submissive. To know your most authentic and natural self is one of the highest forms of enlightenment I can think of. As a Dominant, I see it as our job to build that confidence, not break them down.It has been my experience that as you begin working on this fourth aspect, all of the work you have done comes together to provide you a depth of overall understanding of your submissive and quite frankly, they will, and should, understand you as well. I have always seen the yin and yang of D/s and M/s relationships being a growing together rather than a forcing to comply or taking of a submissive. There is no sweeter fruit than the fruit that is given freely and for an s to give themself freely, without reservation to a Dominant who truly "knows them" is priceless beyond compare. Once you have tasted such fruit, I doubt you will ever settle for less.A word of caution: This is powerful guidance, and not to be engaged in lightly. We do not use this for manipulation or deceit. We engage openly and honestly in order to seek the same in our partners. If you, yourself, are not yet ready to be fully open with your partner, please do not attempt this, you will only cause pain and emotional harm when you cannot reciprocate the openness that you have worked to create.For those on both sides of the slash, I wish you understanding and beauty and hope this helps in some small way in your life.
Ok, here goes another journal entry, another step down this path… As always, I am subMeghan, and as required, as I type this this, I am completely nude, except for my dog collar and glasses… First things first. My Dom got a new toy for me.  It’s called a “cheek retractor dental mouth gag”.  Here’s a link to what they are: https://www.extremerestraints.com/cheek-retractor-dental-mouth-gag.html We’ve been trying it out this weekend and so far we are both really liking it…  a lot!  My Dom just loves, loves, loves how I look when I wear it.  I knew right away that he’d like it from the perspective of fucking my mouth, but he also is obsessed with me just wearing it. In fact I am wearing it right now as I type.  In fact, I’ve been wearing it around the house most of the weekend.  As far as gags go, all in all, it’s really comfortable.  Compared to some other types of gags, breathing is not an issue at all.  Drooling of course is unavoidable. And yes, I’ve got drool all over my chest. (My Dom loves to see me drool.)  I just need to make sure I don’t drool on the keyboard. lol This has all been part of a puppygirl weekend, which is something we do from time to time.  In a nutshell, I spend the entire weekend as a nude puppygirl, doing any number of puppygirl activities.  I get off on it which only makes the sex all the better. (Perhaps I’ll elaborate of that in a future journal entry.) Enunciating while trying to talk while wearing this gag is extremely difficult.  So I haven’t been saying much this weekend.  However, I can still make barking-like noises.  Lol  You literally cannot say “woof” or “bark” while wearing this gag.  I ended up going with an “arf” like noise... We ended the session about an hour ago and now I’m human again.  This will give me enough time to take care of all the weekend chores around the house. That’s about it for now.  I’ve got chores to do.  So, this is naked, drooling subMeghan signing off. Until next time... 
I used to love whoring and slutting around. There wasn’t anything quite as fun as finding a new cock to play with – I was always thrilled at how fast I could get a guy hard and how hard I could make him cum with my mouth or my cunt. Fucking was the only time I felt genuinely confident in my 20’s. A lot of that came down to Kevin. I belonged to Kevin (on and off) for over a decade. He was my first D/s relationship, and his primary focus and kink was whoring me out. He loved having me be an absolute filthy fucking slut for him, and the confidence and power I felt in that role over time was incredible. Through him, I learned how much power a woman could have in herself by submitting to her own sexual desires. It wasn’t just that Kevin loved having me be a whore (as much as I wanted to think that was my sole purpose at the time), I fucking loved sex and I loved the attention and desire I felt from men in those moments. I loved the strength and confidence I gained from their desire; it was a strength that lasted a lot longer than the encounter did, that’s for damn sure. I didn’t need their reassurance or their attention after. I didn’t need them after, period. I got my reassurance from Kevin. His praise and enthusiasm for my behavior reinforced the strength that I gained and reinforced my confidence in my skills. I didn’t have shit for confidence walking down the street or walking into a party to be around strangers, but the second I was presented with a hard cock, it was Game. Fucking. On. THAT I knew I could handle with perfect confidence, grace and skill. And I fucking relished every moan, groan, sigh, gasp, and trembling muscle from the man I was with. In my 20’s, I was somewhere around 340-375lbs. I didn’t really get on a scale very often, so I honestly don’t know how much I actually weighed. What I do know, is that it was Kevin who taught me that my size didn’t preclude me from being desirable. When I moved to “the big city”, I had the opportunity for basically unlimited male attention, which was a first for me, having grown up in the middle of nowhere Nebraska. Kevin encouraged this exploration, but also gave me very distinct rules and boundaries (he’d more than learned by that time that I had no idea how to establish, let alone maintain, my own boundaries). He made me go to Planned Parenthood to get my birth control shot. He “gave me permission” to tell guys to fuck off if they didn’t want to use protection for sex; I could ‘blame my Owner’ if they were at all hesitant. Having all this attention from all these different guys, never having to go more than a few days without sex if I didn’t want to, god – it was fucking incredible! And in the background, was Kevin, telling me what a fantastic little whore I was. When it came to being with Kevin, it was an even bigger reassurance. He told me once, during a moment of extreme insecurity, “I don’t give a shit what you look like, Lisa. What I care about is control.” I knew I could give him that better than anyone, the question was, did he actually mean it? The short answer is, abso-fucking-lutely. When my stunning beauty of a roommate (who’d played with Kevin over the phone and online multiple times) joined us one night, I figured it was going to be game over for us. She was a knock-out compared to me and way better at everything sexual than I could ever dream of being. He was choking her with his dick and she freaked because he wouldn’t let her control the pace or how far down her throat his cock went. She jumped up and took off out of the room to go smoke a bowl and calm down and he called me over. Despite her naked self standing mere feet from him, perky ass and tits on full display, he was totally soft. The second I put his dick in my mouth and let him choke me to his hearts content, he was rock hard and having the time of his life. She eventually came back to the kitchen table where he was sitting while I sucked him off, and I remember feeling an unbelievable surge of pride as he praised me, telling me what a good girl I was, how much he loved choking me and making me cry, how pretty my tears were. And when he finally came in my mouth, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that for some men…it really is all about control. And I was officially hooked. That was all I wanted from that moment on, and to a large extent, it’s still all I want. Especially when it comes to any type of D/s dynamic. I don’t fucking care about the sex, whips or chains…I want the man who gets rock hard simply because I love to obey, to give up as much control as possible. I want the guy who gets off leaving me a list of chores to do in the morning and is way more turned on by me having completed the whole list plus some, then having to “punish me” because I failed to do those tasks. I want the guy who’s dick goes soft because a girl tells him ‘no’ (and he would never dream of pushing her beyond that ‘no’), but he gets hard as steel, instantly, because where someone else says ‘no’, I say ‘yes please and thank you’. I don’t need gymnastics and props…they can’t do anything nearly as good as a hand in my hair and a deep voice whispering in my ear.
Hello everyone!  subMeghan here... As you guys know, my dom requires me to disslose the fact that as I type this, I, subMeghan, puppygirl and submissive, am completely nude, wearing only my dog collar and glasses... Sorry for not writing sooner, but we've been busy and I didn't think I had much to say. I will say that my last journal entry here was an "interesting" experience.  For those of you you don't have the time to go look at it, basically my dom was pleasuring / teasing me as I typed my journal.  Frankly I'm surprised I was able to type anything remotely comphresensible.  lol Hmm...  I think my dom is up to something... He's been looking over my shoulder as i type. He just handed me my ball gag and has instructed me to put it on.  Stand by... Done.  So this is naked subMeghan, wearing only my dog colla, glasses and now my ball gag...  I wonder where is going to go...  ;)  Ah, I see...  Now that I'm gagged and can't talk he has directed me to respond to him by typing my responses to him right here.  My responses to you master are to be in bold face?  Is that correct, sir? My dom has just dropped a couple of clothes pins in my lap and said "you know where these go?"  Indeed I do, sir! These go on my nipples , sir!  So now I'm naked subMeghan, wearing only my dog collar, glasses, ball gag and clothes pins on my nipples. Is that all, sir?  No?  Ok, what do you want me to do? Ha! My dom just loves teasing me. Now he has just dropped a pair of handcuffs in front of me.  I guess we're going to take this up a knotch.  Sir, if I cuff my hands behind my back, I don't think I'll be able to type.  Ok, he wants my hands behind my back.  Here we go... k  typing like this super hard  i move keyboard to edge of thev desk and i hav to stand up so i can reach around and type wiyh 1 finger.  this is naked submeghan wearing dog collar glasses gag clothes pins and cuffs.  my dom is laughing at me an says i look like a stupid dork. good 4 me i happen to know he has a thing for nerdy girls lol my dom sayys to say goodbye because hes going to make me dance for him then fuck me bye
52M Dom/Daddy london uk, Seeks *relocatable* live-in 18-25 any cis girl must willing to Anal Training and prolapse   I am a master/DD would say that I am not a loser, or dying for pussy (maybe for a real sub and her Back door=butt=asshole=Anal Training for younger female) who is not shy and daring enough to have her butt prolapse,I am not crazy or dangerous etc, but a person, pleasant, appearance, polite (more or less)and I like to dominate, I am willing to Anal Training for younger= one cis girl willing to be mine anal slut, must not be committed (with other cocks=which mean if you think you are naughty you are probably ...), who wants to discover and cultivate with me(no others) the pleasure her submission and live as a proper 1950s girl.all with honesty and pleasure for both, keeping in mind that is not a game)she must into a beautiful and intense time ..of course after care and use of the safeword is paramount in a long term relationship (even short but again 'no take away') ,if interested could write me on telegram analmandingo or PM ,NO 4 SEX CHAT OR if u want MONEY find a pig NOT ME!. I am only interested in sub/slave want to be own by me only for monogamous LTR ( or is full of wanna be dom and domme if you are looking for sex go to them as probably you rubbish like them so shite go with shite ). U must be in London uk 🇬🇧 , no cyber no fake !   Basic tasks for the girl what to be my slave 1_ you must be naked or basic dressed you will be touched regularly by me I love to have my hands all over you 2) you must suck a minimum of 2hrs per day my cock .3. you will get spanked or whips minimum 30 shots per day as to remind you, you are mine .4. you will be rape play daily as ATM mouth fuck .5. you must rim me regularly after u cum it relax me .6, you need to wear a plug Or plug tail Or the hook posture ,7.piss whore you will get my golden rain in or on your face ,8, you must wear a collar as show of respect to me.and you will be training to wear a plug daily t! .9. do what I said or get punish the way i want or like . listen to what I need and make sure I get it from you 10. You will sign a contract to show me you understand   Snapchat DomPadrone telegram analmandingo not for sex chat   i do not fit in. never did.never wanted to , I do not mix with sh*t.
A couple nights ago, a self-defined submissive made some generic comment in his email, but did call me Domina, so I responded. A little earlier tonight, he wrote back to ask if I was looking for a slave. Specifically, "slave." I responded "Well, if you had actually read more than the first line, you would have found your answer before you asked" To which he replied "oh, read the profile syndrome that tells me everything I want to know not for me bye" Do you see the problem here? He didn't make any effort, while simultaneously offering himself as a "slave." To a total stranger. 'Cause lawd knows, a slave ain't gonna be asked to do anything as outRAGEOUS as... READ. This kind of obtuseness just blows my freakin mind every time. I mean, the twit has exchanged less than a hundred words with me, is using not the mild mannered "submissive" or "sub" which is kind of like dating, if you think about words (and you sure as shit better be the kind that thinks about words if you are writing ME) but instead chose the serious and committed word "Slave" which is a lot more like suggesting marriage. And obviously, he's heard this before, because he had a whole big feeling about it, and has pathologized it as something only demented women expect from a man who was already offering the pinnacle of servitude. It's funny because it's so sad, and so common. I had just never heard it put that way before. Such over the top, blatant gaslighting. 'If you want this, you must be CRAZY!' I mean, really who wants to actually KNOW someone they have given all power over their lives??? I guess I'm more tired than I thought, and a bit bummed over lack of snuggle time with DB on account of snow, but I didn't even bother replying to laugh at him. Block, delete, on to the next. Maybe I go watch TCM The Beginning again. (I fast forward through all the parts that Thomas isn't in. Much shorter movie, but I enjoy it a lot more.)
They both took the training sessions seriously. One hour, every Saturday morning, when he stopped by freshly showered on the way home from the gym. She'd be awake, browsing porn in bed, hungrily awaiting his arrival. She had spent her early adulthood living within the confines of strict parents, and only now was she finally out on her own, with her own place where she could indulge the fantasies she'd harbored for years.  But now she was nervous. Would she be too inexperienced? Would the men laugh at her? She wanted practice first. He knew a good arrangement when he found it. He didn't ask for anything more than the agreement provided. He was discreet. He encouraged her progress, talked her through her doubts, and unleashed her long-hidden needs. Most of all, he had the stamina to hold out until she'd completed her lesson. He knew how to communicate exactly what he wanted.  Each week they'd review her lessons from the past week, and then he'd teach her a new technique or variation. He taught her to use her tongue, use her lips, to make it last, to swallow, to clean up every drip, and to make eye contact when she thanked him afterwards. She'd been mediocre at first, of course, but now after only two months he was a reasonable cocksucker. Maybe even a good one. Her inexperience meant she was a blank slate, with no bad habits.  Soon she'd be an extraordinary ball drainer. Her future partners and husband would benefit from her training for decades to come.