I wish I understood the urge to write to a stranger and make obscure pronouncements. I am moving. I tried it. Even compliments like You have sexy feet or I love your hair. I wonder if they get an effective response rate from others. They certainly don't get anything from me but the delete button. I don't think I can be any more clear. Read the fucking profile. Emails with less than 3 sentences are deleted as soon as they are opened. Yes, even compliments. Even cryptic declarations. Especially cryptic declarations. Occasionally I am tempted to reply to a nice message with a thank you or ask a cryptic declarater (declarator? one who declares cryptically) WTF. But then I remember that EVERY SINGLE TIME I have made an exception, I have regretted it or felt it was a terrific waste of my time and effort or both.   I guess I will never know where random guy is moving or what other random guy tried. Maybe I'm better off not knowing. ~E

Who am I? When I was in kindergarten, I got my very first parent-teacher meeting because I convinced a nice little boy (Timmy, Tommy, something like that) to climb into the toy cabinet. He complied (what joy!), and I then proceeded to tie the door handles together with a shoelace. Silly me, I didn't know basic rope safety back then. I didn't have safety shears, and when I could not untie my knots, little Timmy/Tommy got rather upset. It was then that a teacher had to come rescue him, and the poor Catholic School teachers realized that they'd better get on the horn to Mom and Dad, pronto. Looking at me, they must have thought "this kid was going to be A Problem." True enough, I read ahead of the class, ignored instructions in favor off more efficient methodologies, and continued to be large and in charge over the years. I'd say it's been all downhill from there, but I've rather enjoyed the ride!

I'm told that I should say what I offer as part of this, so here goes: I'm a skilled writer, proofreader, editor, and researcher, and can deliver information in a sensible, easy to absorb, fashion. I can perform basic admin tasks, including maintaining databases, answering emails/messages, and taking minutes. I'm intelligent, a good listener, with a good level of empathy, and am told I give a good massage. I can cook, clean, bake, and am (slowly) learning to make my own clothes. I do my share of emotional labour and have a good memory (for some things, at least). I can provide references. I hope at least some of that catches the eye and makes you (whoever you are) feel that I could be a really useful person for you.

Imagine yourself in a room with the one you care deeply about and trust completely.  He asks you to stand up, put your hands by your side and to close your eyes. He gives you a kiss on the forehead and asks you to do exactly what he says and only what he says.   Wanting to be a good girl you politely agree.  A little kiss on the cheek and you feel him gently unbuttoning your shirt ever so carefully to not touch your skin.  He walks around behind you and slowly pulls your shirt off while a single finger caresses all the way down your back as he tosses your shirt down. Once the shirt lands on the floor his hands are placed on your hips, both his hands go slowly up your arms and at the elbows they come together in between your shoulder blades. You can feel his warm hands unlatching your bra strap and suddenly the twins are free from their restraints. Your body begins to tingle and your blood starts to flow anticipating his hands cupping your awaiting breasts.  He denies you of his touch when you feel his hands in the small of your back. He gets closer and gives you another little kiss on your neck.  His hands then follow just above your pants line to the front and you feel a gentle bear hug with his skin pressing up against your back. Suddenly you realize his hands have made it to your belly button and started to move back to your pants line.  He holds you tight to his body and demands you kick off your shoes. You quickly comply and they go flying across the living room.      With your heart racing and the tingling going all the way to your toes he unbuttons your jeans and pulls them ever so slowly down to your ankles.  His hands occasionally brushing down the outside of your legs.  With your eyes still closed you sense him moving around front.  He calls you his good little girl and gives you a passionate kiss on the lips.  Just as quickly as it began he stops, making you yearn for more. He leans in and you feel his warm tongue placed on the front of your neck, his tongue proceeds down your chest right between the twins and continues to your belly button but stops short. Your nipples now hard as a diamonds feel deprived because they got ignored.

As usual , My inbox overflows.  There are many reasons why I may not reply to a message.  My time is limited. If I allowed it, responding to messages could be a full time job.  There have been plenty of times I have accidentally or internationally opened a message  and found I wanted to reply. However,  I  didn't have time at that moment.  Later to find the message was too far lost amongst the rest. Recently I strolled through the pages of messages and came across a very well written message  from a submissive  who seemed to have potential.   If you send Me a message which is not acceptable . One which does not show respect it will surely not get a kind reply if it gets a reply at all. If I was communicating with you and you did not comply with My demands you can assume I stopped communication.  If I was communicating with you and some time has lapsed there is a good chance your messages are lost in the masses.   If you want My attention write an amazing message to Me. Include a respectable,  recent, clear photo of yourself. Expect to share your email address and phone number if I ask for it. I will not text you.  I will not be sharing My phone number with you,  unless I decide to.    I  will only ask for your phone number if I wish to interview you further via phone. I use no apps, except whatsapp for international.    I am not here to serve you! I expect you come to Me to serve Me.

I am at a point where I would like a live in. A romantic relationship would be ideal, but a house bitch would be acceptable. I am in the process of purchasing a 3 bedroom home in an affluent part of the south bay area of Los Angeles. It will be fully remodeled and beautifully upgraded in a resort community with many amenities.  I will NOT be supporting you. You will be expected to pay your own way and contribute financially to the household, as if you were a roommate. You should be a working professional with a good income or prove that you have the solid financial means to contribute. I work full time from home M-F, a corporate type job with regular hours. You should keep a compatible schedule or travel frequently. Tell me what you could do to make my life easier and how you could serve, whether personally or within our household. What are your skills? We'd start with a trial period first to assess our compatibility. All other attributes, per my profile, still apply. You must be over 35 and have your life together. I'm not looking to "rescue" anyone with drama, mental illness, substance abuse, or instability in your life. If you can't string together a decent intro, I can't be bothered with replying.  

Chauffeur wanted for tomorrow night 25/03/2023. You will be required to pick ME up from IG1 by 8.30pm and drop ME off at E11.  

7/31/2024 6:49:25 PM   A very warm and grateful send out to those who have contacted Me to share of their own story and their strength and well wishing.  This was quite unexpected and I appreciate the consideration shown and stories shared.  My very best to you and yours and thank you for the kindness, it means much and has indeed given Me some strength in carrying on.  xox

Love and War:   In the realm of love and passionate strife, Two fierce hearts clashed in the dance of life. Khan, with eyes like burning fire, Choke, with grace that none could tire.   Their love was a tempest, wild and untamed, Yet each sought dominance, their pride unashamed. In the moon's soft glow, they met on the field, Their destinies entwined, their fates sealed.   Khan, with sword held high, proclaimed his might, Choke, with eyes ablaze, prepared for the fight. Their words were like thunder, their gazes like steel, As they battled for love, with an unyielding zeal.   With each strike and parry, the earth trembled below, As Khan and Choke fought, in a passionate, fiery flow. Their love and their fury, intertwined as one, Their souls locked in battle, 'til the rise of the sun.   But in the end, as dust settled and hearts slowed, They realized that love was the only code. For in their struggle for dominance and control, They found that love's power made them whole.   So Khan and Choke, in an embrace sublime, Set aside their battle, and the passage of time. For in love's embrace, they found their true rest, As two souls entwined, and their hearts truly blessed.

  I read someone elses journal about how their talk turned from discussion to an interrogation.   Ouch!   I must admit I have interrogated a man or two on this site after:   a strange introduction   a strange assumption   or even just by the male being rude and thinking they still had a chance to strike their luck more like a lucky block encounter.   When someone gives you an "ick" feeling you will gear your armour and steer clear.   I do feel for genuine men who really, want a true connection, some of you men need to blame the creeps who introducted themselves before you and left the females with a need to put on their armour.   There are so many scams so many people ready to take whatever they can from people who are vaulnerable and when your willing to confess your sexual sins on a site, you are without a hesistation vaulnerable.  It can take someone, (well me) a bit of time to brush off a bad encounter (at least a good weekend).  I sadly wish I was paranoid but sadly true crime is showing some high numbers and hiding in the shadows seems to be a way of life for some.   On the brighter side for thoose of us that don't hide in either the shadow and come out during the daylight, if you don't make a connection you can sigh relief you did in fact dodge a bullet and honestly when you finally meet someone genuine your better make an effort if they are willing to let you do all the naughty things you like.   I have had a blissful weekend standing up for others in a professional enviornment and being resilient and looking at some new opportunities in another part of the UK.  I feel like Mary Poppins, I go where I am needed most.  If only Mary Poppins was a passionate black women with a sordid collection of rope and crotchless panties.

I’m pleasantly surprised to find the journal feature is fully functional, things seem to be constantly improving here on Collarspace. I’ve always worked to be honest and transparent on ‘singles’ sites as well as those focused on kink/power exchange. Out of privacy interests some of my personal information is approximate, but I’m happy to clear up any questions you might have.  I’m thoroughly divorced/single, and any children I have are fully emancipated yet extremely important in my life.   Though single, I’m not promiscuous nor am I a ‘player’.  I really prefer to get to know a woman before things get ‘too’ physical.  I don’t want to break any hearts and I would prefer not to have mine broken either.  I would dearly love to get to get to know you if what I share here is resonating with you.   I’ve had the honor of being able to talk with and correspond with several quality women through this site.  Through sincere communication two Dommes have told me they think I am ‘kinky’, but not a ‘submissive’.  I respect and appreciate these insights but they leave me a little confused. I’ve always been seeking a Domme here, but in real life I am typically Alpha in my intimate relationships.  When a man is with a woman who enjoys and thrives under that dynamic it’s been counterproductive to share my submissive kink with my partner in the past.  That’s why I’m trying to be as open and transparent as I can in this initial meeting/exploring phase so I don’t waste your time.  I guess I could be considered ‘kinky’ as I am very heterosexually open-minded as I’m pretty open to trying new tgs that my partner might suggest, but I still have many submissive fantasies and crave playing that role for a woman as I have done in the past.  I had a very exciting relationship several years ago with a woman on the east coast, that showed me what was possible and left me craving more. She was vastly more experienced than I was/am and I truly began to fear the direction things were heading.  Once connecting through Alt.com - when it was still usable - she immediately took complete control and had me completely off-balance, I was naive as to what it meant when she told me she was a sadist, and I had no idea the effects constant strategic humiliation could have: Stockholm syndrome. This taught me how important investing in communication and building trust is before delving deep into a Dome/sub dynamic is.   I love the idea and experience of power/exchange, but I’m mainly a pleaser. I really don’t have fetishes as without some kind of connection with the woman I’m not going to be interested in power exchange or even vanilla intimacy.  This is my first real journal entry, I think it best to keep them fairly brief. Hopefully it posts flawlessly and I will be inspired to think of other things I can share with the special woman I hope to meet if she finds me here…

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.  

In answer to an email of a Sir - perhaps others may find more of me too? Sir, I cannot limit myself to a list of check-off boxes, but I detest age play, cnc is something to be careful with and my nipples are simply pain 98%of the time. Water works in themselves aren't appealing to me, but being a slave, I've had bathroom privileges controlled, well, anything in life controlled, to varying levels. I'll obey, but telling me if I can piss or not will not arose me in the least. I'm pretty sure I outgrew roleplay at least a decade ago, but perhaps that wasn't just from a heavy kink community, but young kids.    I think I would be a real pressure on you, kink wise, as honestly, your list is very soft for me. I'm into REAL. I don't do structured scenes unless we're required to, I live my life with a kinky sstreak in all I do. I want a non-stop connection not just to love and laughter, friendship, lust, sex, and more - but to what we are D/s wise. Whether it be subtle like collar or chain, or overt like a controlled regimen or ritualized, it has to flow like the rest does. Not saying it won't ebb and flow, but like the ocean, it doesn't stop.    I need a man who's in the more aggressive and assertive edge. Controlling for his pleasure, but only to the limit of mine. there IS a line between use and abuse; I learned that the hard way. I am a heavy player, as my pictures on fet show. I provide that link very seriously because this website is far too "woke" for who I am. I'm very based, very raw, very tactile and serious. I walk my funny side hand in hand with my serious side and I'm careful of when to laugh or when to stop.    I am very cerebral, very into topics that interest me and I love a rousing argument just as much as I do a relaxed interaction. I get excited over things that others may not connect to other things I like and I slide between topics in a weave of conscious flow that can confuse many people. If you can't juggle 3 or more topics all at once, I'll wear you out intellectually.    Conversely, I'm an extroverted introvert and prefer my days at home, with a watch list of data, news, current events, 2a, political, historical, real crime, true events, etc - or with a book or three at a time.    Right now, medically, I'm pretty fragile, which I detest, but have to admit to. I am kajira, a slave, property such as a dog. I believe chauvinism is how 99% of the world should be and women in power its destroying things faster than men alone ever have. I cannot undo my slavery, no more than excise my brand. I will always see life through the rules of such. That means absolute honesty. I can be careful of how I come across, I can be selective of who and what I answer - unless it's my owner - but to lie by omission is still a lie. I will need help, literally, to get back to the ability to be physically active, in all ways. I don't know if my lungs, or my heart, will ever recover to the point where I will be free of the need for oxygen assistance and cardiac awareness. Right now, living alone (minus teenagers) I have to be careful not to overdo or I end up either collapsed or in the ER... or both. It's scary and mentally... devastating.    I hope this... helps you see deeper into who I am, all around.    Kimberly 

The Binder: On Wanting Things Unapologetically I have been thinking about want lately. The specific texture of it, the way it sits differently when you stop apologizing for the size of it and simply let it exist at full scale. I was raised, as most women are, to want carefully. To want reasonably. To frame ambition as gratitude and desire as practicality and to generally keep the whole operation small enough that no one feels threatened by the outline of it. I am done with that. The Binder exists because I am a woman who plans, and planning requires honesty about the destination. So here it is, plainly, without qualification: I want my dream home. Not a reasonable approximation of it, not a compromise that checks most of the boxes. The actual one, with the particular light in the particular rooms and the space that finally matches the interior life I have been carrying around in a series of spaces too small to hold it properly. A home that looks like me. That is the entire requirement and it is not a small one and I refuse to shrink it. I want work that deserves me. I have spent enough time being competent inside structures that were not built for someone like me, doing it gracefully, doing it well, doing it without making anyone uncomfortable with how much more I was capable of. The next chapter looks different. I am finishing my degree with the same intention I bring to everything: completely, on my own terms, and as the foundation for whatever comes next rather than a box I am checking for someone else's benefit. I want Japan and I want Zanzibar and I want the specific feeling of being a woman who moves through the world with enough ease and enough resources that distance stops being a reason and becomes simply a coordinate. I want to stand somewhere I have never stood and feel the particular expansion that travel produces in a person who pays attention. I want more of that, regularly, starting now and not eventually. And I want to be married again. To someone who understands, in their bones and not just in theory, what it means to belong to a woman like me. Not a partner who tolerates my nature or finds it interesting from a safe distance. Someone who meets me in public as my equal, carries himself with the kind of presence that makes other people straighten up slightly, and comes home and kneels. Who wears my marks the way some men wear medals: privately, permanently, with the specific pride of someone who earned something real. Who worships not as performance but as orientation, the way a compass points north not because it is trying to but because that is simply what it does. I want all of it at once. I want it unapologetically and in full. I want the dream home and the passport stamps and the letters after my name and the man who undoes me at the end of a long day by completely undoing himself first. The Binder is where I keep the map. This is me, reminding myself that the destination is real, that wanting it loudly is not arrogance but clarity, and that a woman who knows precisely what she is building is already most of the way there.   The rest is just time.

I was here awhile back and left. Hello again. I propose a power exchange. About me. I am a strong willed woman. I know what I want in life and am patient enough to wait for it. I've been active in this lifestyle for over 18 years. I would describe myself as a firm and demanding, loving sadistic, that delights in pushing her playthings to the point that is just this side of no return. I expect obedience. I give love, kink and a place to belong (kneeling at my feet). The setting. I live in the woods on the river, deep in the heart of a vast and beautiful land. Where the sun rarely sets in the middle of summer and rarely peeks it's head out in the middle of its winter wonderland. The exchange. I want to play with you. To hurt and humiliate you. To tend your wounds and then hurt you some more. At the end of the day I want you curled at my feet with a hot cup of tea in hand while we share witty banter about the days many activities. I also want my dishes done. My floor scrubbed. My door fixed. My garage cleaned. My art room organized. My garden weeded. My front deck built. This could start as a two week vacation or a repeat visit but should end as a lifetime venture. Serious inquiries preferred.

"So into you" or why ob- ject -ification is not as flattering as some guys think it is The subject today will be centered around ob- ject -ification, and how lack of the right actions is getting in the way of what you want. Recently my day was spent prepping for Mom spending the night, which mostly meant me continuing to organize, clean and just generally improving the space in my sewing room, (the only real spare room) which has a futon, and most importantly, DOORS, so she can have privacy and quiet from my cats. Now, being ADD, I work better with music and company, so I put music on that she and I can both enjoy- a Pandora station based on the Doobie Brothers I started just for her. And being who I am, I tend to listen to lyrics, and then often find myself analyzing them. Usually, I'm specifically analyzing the relationship failings described in them. It doesn't always stop me enjoying the music, but sometimes I recognize the stalkery mindsets that filled our airwaves when I was young and impressionable. As were the guys who were listening. It's not surprising that we all grew up thinking these kinds of unhealthy behaviors and expectations were normal, and even romantic. Songs like Boston's "Let me take you home tonight," where a guy is explaining to a woman he's never actually met before that he's basically been stalking her and built a strong fantasy and expectations about who she is, and now he feels that she should absolutely feel both flattered, and obligated to have sex with him. "You must understand this, I've watched you for so long, that I feel I've known you, I know it can't be wrong," and goes on to say "I'm dreamin of your sweet love tonight, let me take you home tonight." So… he's been watching her for a long time without talking to her, decided who she was without ever having a single conversation, and, of course, imagining sex with her. A lot. And he tells her so, over and over and over. Let me do this thing I want. Let me do this thing I want. Let me do this thing because I want it. Because that's always what is really going on there. Always the focus and end focus. Nah... that's not creepy AT ALL. Geesh. Today, it was "So Into You" by Atlanta Rhythm Section. Different band, different song, same thought process - I saw you, I was attracted, I've decided who you must be, and I can't think about anything except sex with you - only this time, they seem to want to make it her fault. Now, at first, what struck me was "could not catch your eyes" and "stand here helplessly hoping you get into me." Which just makes me ask 'What did he actually try?' I end up envisioning Toothless in How to Train Your Dragon 2, dancing around like a lunatic and freaking out the of his affections. Let's hope it wasn't like that. But honestly, it sounds like he really didn't try much. He admits that he's 'standing helplessly' rather than walking across the room and saying hello. Which sounds a lot like complaints I've heard from guys before. "I don't know how to talk to women" and that's where it ends, rather than trying to solve that. I mean, there are classes, there are workshops, there is therapy, etc. There are options. Why would someone not even try to fix the thing that keeps them from finding companionship if they are stating that they want it? Passive is not a good look. Or as has been said "faint heart ne'er won fair lady." Unfortunately, the closer we look at the lyrics, the creepier it gets. All this woman did was walk into a room. Suddenly, he's obsessed. He "can't think of nothing else." He says "Love the things you do" when so far, all she's done so far was exist in the same room. She's "driving him crazy," "thinking about how it's going to be" and he's "Gonna love her all over, over and over." So he's not really thinking about getting to KNOW her. He's focused on this fantasy he has of who she is, and what he wants to do to her. She's a beautiful woman. But somehow, she's not really a person. I mean, he's impressed by her, and he wants something from her. But not enough to make the effort to interact with her as human being. So he's "helpless" and "driven crazy" and "captured" but is just standing around "hoping." Worst part is that I really do like the song. Musically, and I like his voice, and the moody, kinda slow jazz feel to it. Shame about the message. I do get it - sometimes you see someone who just looks so cool it's hard to figure out how to approach so that they will be as impressed by you as you are by them. I was told that I'm intimidating... decades before I knew that Dominant was a thing. And the problem isn't that he thinks she's beautiful with "voodoo in the vibe." It's that he's turning that into something SHE's doing - "driving him crazy," and turning his insecurity into "helpless." And the entire thing is portrayed as flattering, and romantic, and a compliment to her. Because isn't that what women are supposed to want? For men to desire them? For her beauty to give her power somehow? For her appearance to add to her value to men? Because "The Male Gaze" is always supposed to be a woman's focus. And what a man feels when gazing is her responsibility. And anything a man might do because of that feeling when gazing at her is her fault. And that is the message. In song after song. "I saw you, I had a feeling, I have a want, I am thinking about you, I am having lots of thoughts about you, I'm having a fantacy about you, I'm deciding that the fantacy is a true representation of who you are, so now I'm building hopes, and I'm building expectations, and now I'm going to approach you , and you should share all my fantacies and fullfil the hopes and expecations rather than view me as some total stranger who's making weird sexual demands." (We won't even START discussing murder ballads. That came up recently too...) That is the message young guys get when they are first thinking about asking girls on a date. That this is how it happens. That this is normal. So when they do it, they are shocked and confused by the girl's reaction. Then again, young girls get this too, so plenty of times when a guy is inappropriate, before they've learned to be afraid of guys and their reaction to rejection, they belive they are supposed to be flattered that a guy is paying attention to them. Even if she doesn't like him, having a guy want you is important, a measure of your value as a woman. So rather than seeing a red flag for later, more aggressive poor behavior, they see it through the lens of "romance." They feel pretty and special and don't recognize healthy behavior when they see it elsewhere because this is how it happens, and what is normal. It's right up there with "he must like you if he punched you" in grade school turning into "he didnt mean it, you know he loves you" later when he beats her bloody later in life. Hell, I literally had this just yesterday. "Hello beautiful, I’ve always wanted to meet you , I love that hair , your so beautiful, I’m in (my town) until Jan 30th Love spoil you and finally get to actually meet you , I only been dreaming for years to do some sissy sessions with you " Never read a single line of my profile in all those "years." So he literally only knows that I have a nice picture. I point that out. (It's a thing for me...you may have noticed.) He responds "I know I need proper training but I know you can teach me !" Because of course, that would be my goal - to spend time and a lot of energy giving someone what they want when they couldn't spend 5 minutes reading my profile. I point out that he STILL hasn't read it, or addressed my reply, and that it was kind of insulting.  He pushed on, though - "We can go get coffee or meet at a munch or anything your up for , I’m only here to next Sunday , but after we meet and greet , I know you would always enjoy my company"  Because obviously, women enjoy men who they feel have insulted them. Especially when it's the BDSM equivalent of a one night stand.  Yes, I blocked him. He obviously wasn't going to catch a clue, even when smacked with a clue-by-four, so there was no point letting him keep messaging me until he got nasty.  He told me I was beautiful, so it automatically followed in his mind that I would immediately want to be alone, up close and personal, providing him his desired gratification, in a session with him, a total stranger, on the first meeting. And that his idea of "spoil" would be the same as mine. Or "proper training." He belived knew me, what I'd want, what I enjoy from my company, etc, without having to read a word I wrote, because he'd looked at my picture and had a feeling and built a fantasy and then expecations. And that who I was beyond my face (and hair) didn't matter.  Because I was not a person to him.  I was an object he desired... a fetish vending machine into which he felt he had put the appropriate coinage - a compliment on my looks. And he wasn't going to be desueded from that with reality or actual human interaction.  This is the world women live in. This is what "The Male Gaze" actually means. If we are attractive, we have value, but not humanity. If we are not attractive, we have no value, and are dehumanized.  You'd think men who want to be Dominated would behave at least slightly different, show at least surface respect to a Dominant Woman, but on average, they don't. And yet, right now, in several groups, there are guys going on about how hard it is to find a Mistress, by guys with the same empty profiles and dick pic avatars and tons of 'do me' groups. The same complaints, the same confusion, the same helplessness and yet the same refusal to make the efforts that would make it possible for a Dominant Woman to want to interact with them.  They are standing helplessly... hoping... being driven crazy... not understanding why we aren't "getting into" them.

Why language matters. Or, Darmok and Jalad. angeldmort 57F Domme I had a reminder this week, (not that this week is that unusual, but some cases are more extreme than others) at how important it is to have a common language in any interaction we have with others. Most of our lives, the average American at least walks around hearing English, speaking English, reading English, and assuming they understand what other people are saying. And vice versa - they assume they are understood. And yet, so much of our attempts to communicate end in misfires.   Often, it's because we don't really care enough about the interaction, and we glide along on autopilot, comfortable in the status quo quality of our interactions. We are usually getting enough of what we need out of it that we often don't even question it. Often, if there's a problem, we make a scene to make it clear that no, that's NOT what we meant, or that isn't what was said to us, etc but unless we feel slighted, or it leads to the loss of something we DO value - a comment made here that loses us a promotion, or a question not answered loses someone's interest, or a tone of voice makes us concerned for a possible loss of status- unless it's serious, it's just anger and fuss and it's over. THEN, it may become a real issue, worth some thought, but by then, it's really too late. The miscommunication has happened, the thought process it started it under way, and a feeling has been had, etc.   Stick with me here.   At it's most basic level, language is how we express a thought. It's pretty common to believe that most of the time, other people from a similar area have similar thoughts to our own about a general variety of things. We expect that they want the same basic things, because we are all human, and most of the people we deal with were raised similarly, and had similar experiences. And that they will use the same words as we do to describe them. That's where the screeching halt comes in.   "Most adult native test-takers range from 20,000–35,000 words." That's a decent vocabulary. It should mean that most of us that speak English will have plenty of words in common to have a discussion and be understood with enough clarity to make it through most common joint activities.   That said, most people don't tend to think too deeply about words themselves. Which means when you start to want more than just "enough to get by" conversation, things can get a bit complicated. And in cases where you need to negotiate something VERY specific, in depth, such as the fine details of kink or what our limits are... suddenly, your vocabulary will not only need to grow, but become very precise.   I'm not seeing that as often as I would expect from the letters I receive. In fact, the majority of people that write me seem frustrated by the need for words at all, and irritated by the requirement that we spend some time talking about anything that isn't a description of a sex act. Which baffles me... if you are wanting someone to tie you up, do ... THINGS ... to you, while you are helpless, etc, wouldn't you REALLY REALLY want to make sure that the things they want to DO are the same things you want DONE? Wouldn't you be DEEPLY interested in making sure they are the kind of person that honors your Safe Word, or who shares your definition of "honest," or who won't just walk off with your wallet and DVD player while you are tied down, or who won't turn out to be straight up batshit nuts?   I've had another rash of "own me" messages. Interspersed of course with the regular "total sub" offers.   The topic at hand isn't the "I'm a TOTAL sub!" who responds to "ok, go read this for me and tell me what you think" with "What? That's not what I want! I'm a SEXUAL submissive!" Or even the "i want to be ur slave" that can't obey enough to respond to an email on time.   This topic is about the problem that causes that problem in the first place.   I received one this week from a very pretty dick pic with an empty profile that did read enough to call me Domina, but obviously nothing else, so I sent a link to the "First Impressions" thread, and followed with "Consider Your Target Audience." You can guess how it went. Before he got to "Bye, Bitchhhhhh!" he told me he wanted me to "own" him. And he referred to himself as "very kinky like to be watched ! Masterbaiting live turns me on" (Yes, that's how he spelled it.) Meh. No great loss.   Later, sissy under consideration asked if I was at all interested by Dick Pic Guy. Aside from the obvious stunted mentality of thinking his naked dick somehow mattered, he was a good tool to explain the problem of common language/vocabulary.   While being turned on by being watched is very common, and whatever floats your boat, etc that he described himself as very kinky based on that was a VERY clear indicator that we weren't even speaking the same language in regards to kink. Much like the majority of the people that write me, he had an interest in something, and had set out to pursue that, and as it wasn't mainstream, they thought it must mean they were REALLY out there crazy kinky. (Hell, ex-husband number two thought anal was the height of twisted and kinky.) Now, obviously, there was no actual interest in submission, or desire to actually be owned, so there was no point in even considering trying to have a conversation.   However, if there actually HAD been interest, if he had just been a newbie and without clue, there would have been this huge gap of vocabulary to fill in before we could have ever tried to talk about anyth

Does anyone else crave a connection that is so deep and powerful that it feels like a life line that can't exist without it that connection?  It is something that i crave in the very cell of my being. I am looking to feel it is as though it makes my heart beat or helps air fill my lungs. Online that can be very hard to do as we are not phyisically around each other to get that feeling. Online it is though connection in words or hearing each other voices. I need to find my future Partners that need connections as much as I do. That want and need to be together as much as possible.  I know that  we all have lives and that the world around us can keep us busy. When I am getting to know someone and willing to see where it goes, maybe i am unrealistic but i try to be on this site or other places where we have made a connection to communicate and wait around and respond as quickly as i recieve it or can respond because it is like a lifeline to me to help my heart beat or my lungs take breaths to stay alive. I get frustrated and i have lashed out in my frustration when other's don't do the same things i guess because i feel actions are stronger than words. In me responding quickly is showing that i am taking it seriously and wishing to put in the work to see if this will work out. If not i try to at least wish them the best of luck in finding the one that will make them feel the way i need and crave the connection as well.  

Live the Life You're Meant to Live You were not placed upon this groundTo stumble aimlessly around.A spark was lit, a flame was cast,A purpose born to hold you fast. The breath you take, the time you spend,Was gifted with a higher end.Not just to drift, to merely be,But shape the world, your legacy. Each talent, dream, and burning fireCalls out to lift your spirit higher.To squander it, to let it fade,Is to betray why you were made. For those who idle, waste their light,Who fear to step or fight the fight,Will watch the world, a fleeting stream,While drowning in a shadowed dream. But those who dare, who strive, who seek,To live their truth, though strong or weak,Will find the path that calls their nameAnd leave behind a glowing flame. So rise, and live the life you’re meant,A fleeting gift, so wisely spent.For failure’s not to fall or trip,But to forsake your sacred script. ~ Miss Dar      

I wouldn't call myself Kinky The umbrella that kink, bdsm, dom/sub etc have come to represent is rather large at this point. I would say the majority of people on here are kinky/slutty and only vaguely interested in dynamics in which power is exchanged except perhaps as it makes things spicy or facilitates a kink. Now of course there is so much potential overlap that it can become a rather ry and most likely an unnecessary distinction. I look around it's endless dick pictures, or tit/pussy pictures, it's people throwing dirty sexual thoughts out there, but in a throwaway type, that are put out there for no other reason than they get that quick empty thrill and the vague hope that your next no effort meaningless sexual encounter will find you. I see endless personal ads looking for a "Master to own and train" or one of the 100 variations on that basic thought. No you really aren't, you most likely have not thought through what that really means and if you had you would be starting off much slower. What your really looking for is some hot roleplay, a quick jump into a pretend scene that does absolutely nothing to challenge your identity or ego. Maybe you think you really want that master or slave but chances are you are only thinking about it from that hot sex pov with that fantasy master/slave you have in your head that doesn't exist. There is nothing wrong with all this though. I begrudge no one the pursuit of what they consider a good time and I definitely do not judge needing an escape from the drudgery most of our lives represent. We only live once. That said though much of it doesn't really speak to me. I'm not sure I would consider myself kinky even though the array of things I want to do and that fascinate me i

So I suppose I should expand upon what we are seeking so as not to waste anyone's time. I am absolutely not a Dom or even a switch, not really. Not in kink and not in life. But I am looking for a submissive. Who will let me have my way with them like a spoiled child. I want someone so wrapped around my fingers that even though there really aren't any consequences I can give them, and that even though they could over power me or outsmart me they choose not to they choose every second of their submission wholely over and over again. No matter what I am doing to them they choose me as their princess. A submissive daddy type if you will. And daddys arent controlled with fear and pain and neglect but with love and attention and sweet words...and other tantalizing treats.    I feel this is the type of relationship Westley and Buttercup had. Lol.    Ok I am sure I have done a not so stellar job explaining this but hopefully a bit better then before.    Be well everyone.   As always curious friends are always welcome as well.

Questions: Rough sex or soft? I prefer to mix it up depends on the partner. Weirdest place you have had sex? Under the pier at Carolina Beach during the day. Favorite sex position? Between a partners legs giving oral. Or from behind if they are strapped down. Have you had any one night stands? Never I'm demisexual so what gets me going is a personal attachment. The thought of a stranger fills me with dread! Have you had sex in a public place? Quite often. Restrooms, by a river bank, in a forest. Have you been caught masturbating? I rarely touch myself. I have gone 12 years without after my wife passed. How often do you have sex? If in a relationship I want it every few hours. If I'm not in one I don't at all. Do you prefer giving or receiving oral? Giving, I'm a person pleaser. Most embarrassing thing that has happened to you during sex? Adjusted position and gave accidental anal. Yeah not good!

 alenaslight 

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.