Twisted Cheshir Madness 2.0 Let the One true Twisted cheshir Lead you into the darkness and down the rabbit hole.... Here we goooolooking for friends and whatever more may come with is this this world .. my name is cheshir i am the one and only .. So come and join me in this journyava name TwistedCheshirLet Madness Guide you into the ever lasting peace that come with it

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 

So slightly better news.  99.9 percent of the people who get this cancer are either heavy smokers, heavy drinkers, or drug users, and have depressed immune symptoms.  Since I am none of those things, my chances of making it out of this alive is closer to 80 percent than 50.  I'll take it.  I go in for surgery next week.  They are cutting out a piece of the back of my tongue, a piece of the back of my throat, and going into the side of my neck and removing all the lymph nodes.  Fortunately, the surgical techniques have advanced a lot and they no longer have to take out all the bones and muscle in my neck along with it.  So I will have a scar on my neck, but won't be grossly disfigured.  I won't be able to eat solid food or talk for a few weeks, and it's still going to be horribly painful, but better than dying.  And hopefully, if they get it all, I won't need to follow up with chemo and radiation and it won't come back.  But this cancer does like to come back.  I will worry about that when it happens.  For now, I'm going to focus on getting through this and keep living my life as best I can.  Thanks to everyone who took the time to write me about their own survival stories, or to offer support.

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

If you're not within 60 miles of me and don't have "willing to relocate" in your profile", then I'm not going to message you.  I completely understand and respect that inability\unwillingness to move.  I'm not going to bother you if I think you're too far away. That being said.  If you are far away and are open to finding someone and possibly traveling to see them, please either put that in your profile or message me first. I was recently accused by someone on here that this kind of mentality of not wanting to bother folks wasn't "real alpha behavior".  Yes.  Thank you.  I have no wish to be a part of that kind of bullshit and bad science.  Six Sigma is a business process, not a lifestyle philosophy.  I will respect you until I own you, then I will respect your value even more, but in a violently sadistic manner.  If I never own you, then I'll continue to give you respect until you do something to lose it.  That’s just decency.      

  My thoughts and understanding between the difference between a sub and a slave.  Yes, everyone thinks that a slave has no rights. They are property.  I view slavery as the utmost form of submission.  When a sub says to her dom or master "please own me." What the slave is meaning is that she has such trust in her dom that she trusts him with her life. Not only physically, but psychologically as well. She knows that any decsions that her "owner" makes is in the best interests of the slave.  This subsmission should not be taken lightly but after a high degree of trust is earned. That trust has to be mutual or the relationship will suffer.   Basic Rules    1. The sub/slave will address all men as Sir or other appropiate title within the BDSM lifestyle, All women will be addressed as Mistress or other appropiate title within the BDSM lifestyle. If agreed too all vanilla men and women will be refered to as sir or ma'am.   2. The sub/slave wil report any changes to health physical or mental.   3. The sub/slave will commincate any concerns, requests, or desires in an honest and respectful manner as well as keep a journal and make one entry per day in the journal and will present the journal for review weekly.   4. The sub/slave when entering the houshold shall remove all clothing and present herself naked for inspection. Once inspected she is to remain naked or dress in appropiate clothing as directed.   5. The sub/slave will accept any restriction as agreed too including mental or physical bondage.   6. The sub/slave will adhere to all protocols, modes of speech, positions as agreed too. All positions must be done in a graceful manner.   7. The sub/slave will accept any discipline and punishment as agreed too and realize that thisis a corrective action to aid her in her journey of submission.   8. The sub/slave shall perform any sexual service as agreed too, unless there is a health issue that would prevent her from performing that sexual service.   9. The sub/slave shall perform any domestic service as agreed too, unless there is a health issue that would prevent her from performing that domestic service.   10. A collared sub/slave shall honor her collar and not engage in any activity that would dishonor her collar, herself, or her dom/master.

How Manipulation Begins I had begun conversing with a gent a few days ago. He asked me how my night was or some conversation starter.  I dont typically respond to  emails with no photos, but thought I'd take a chance (in other words, I thought it was safe to let my guard down.)  It was midnight and I was getting  ready for bed.  He stated he wanted to continue chatting , at a later date.  I sent him my Google number if he wanted to text freely.  🚩I didn't receive a goodnight text, which automatically let me know he's a ghost. He's clearly scamming or cheating.   In his response, he states wants to get to know me.  However, he wants to "spoon til morning--that's creating s false sense of intimacy. This is why you need to pay attention, regardless of gender.    His follow-up was just as manipulative.   He didnt apologize for sending mixed signals,  nor did he take responsibility for the confusion.    Be Safe Out There!   I was not ignoring you my dear beautiful Miss, I was search for my archives of pictures so I could share another one with you. Thank you for your number I hope you don’t mind but given the vulnerability I feel in sharing pictures can we keep the correspondence here until and longer friendship is formed. I hope you don’t mind this. And of course I was always going to say goodnight sweet Miss. How much I would love to change now into something satiny and spoon you till morning  

I find all these profiles wanting subs for training interesting.  Do Dom’s get on here thinking all women are new to the lifestyle when they join a site like this?  They go from a totally vanilla world and think, hey, I am going to do something crazy today, despite never having had a fantasy or desire, or want, I am a blank slate and door mat, I am going to join this site and seek someone to train me to fulfill all of their desires since I have absolutely none of my own… Because let me tell you, that is totally what I was thinking the first time I joined this site, totally…  Facepalm.  Do you really think you can train someone to just service your desires?  Are people really that narcissistic?  All humans have desires and I don’t care if a relationship is D/s M/s or whatever, there are still two people in it and they are both wanting something from it… There is no training, there is learning about each other, and growing together, or ending bitterly… 

I ran over a headlight. Not a bulb, no that would be too easy. I ran over a whole headlight kit. Set. Contraption. Whatever that entire piece is called. I ran it over. But not with a wheel, oh no, that would have been too easy. It got lodged under my car. I had to pull over and get on the ground in a dress and push and pull this thing to get it loose. Yep. I think my car is okay? It didn't blow up.  You know how things happen in threes, right? The two hour tour I took the other night was one. This was two. I didn't have long to wait for three. About an hour later I drove to not one, but two wrong pizza places to pick up my order. That's right, ladies and gentlemen. I have lost my mind. In trying not to jinx myself I won't mention this being over or what else could possibly go wrong because I still have two whole days to this week and I need to make it through without calling a mechanic. And I still have to try to fix the kitchen fan, did I tell you that one? A balloon wrapped around it and the whole thing is dead. The lights, the fan, an outlet on that side of the kitchen. I know, I checked the circuit breaker. That's not it. Life is hurling adulting fast balls at me one after the other and I'm trying not to strike out. I'd settle for a walk as long as it isn't because my car stopped working because I ran over a fucking headlight. 

If your profile pic is your crotch or your butt, from any angle, clothed or not, lingerie or not, chastity or not, I will "Hide" your profile from view. I do not want to be introduced to a crotch or a butt. If your profile pic is a bathroom mirror nude body shot, I likely will not look further. Why would I want to get to know somebody with so little sense of aesthetics, so little willingness to put in a bit of effort, so little imagination? A profile avatar is your introduction, your first hand-shake, not a place to bare your all. Even on a kink site, we are people first. Kinky does not mean a total lack of class or style or courtesy. A profile avatar does not have to be a face pic, it doesn't even have to be you, it just has to show something interesting about you. A hobby, a pet, a silhouette of you against a sunset, a photo you took and love. If your body doesn't belong in a fashion magazine, don't expect it to be interesting to potential partners as a first introduction. Bodies become much more attractive for many women when we get to know the person first. We are looking for more than bodies. Show us a WHOLE PERSON. That goes for the body of the profile, too. Show us a whole person, not another horny porn-fed online wannabe without a clue. Show you know what you are talking about outside of porn, which is NOT educational. Be a real, interesting, knowledgable person. Or do please write to somebody else.

Maybe God puts someone in your life to figure yourself out, Having a slave for the household would be a dream, but it takes weeks for even each other to see each other. unless their pussies and play the get some mmm and get out game? but let me tell you. I am 36 years old and i was on here on Collarme, I remember the hours at nights where I chat with Doms, Sirs, subs, females males, and just fascinated. Yes my husband and i have hit a really hard time but maybe me taking the time to find a slave would be ideal and let him do his shit while we try to work on marraige, now a lot of you would say NO Go work on that, but see that was the trouble, I tried to do everything I can not anymore. I dont have time to take years to get to know somoeone who wants a Domme, who is kind loving and pushing toward wanting someone who is along those lines but also wants some humilation and and punishment when needed. Dream to live in the country with my household and look onto the mountains and grow old and have my slave or slaves male or female service my household. I can not tell the future, but someone will grow to love this chit Chatty Domme who Loves to be called Misses and Mistress when it suits her, the driffrence is in the words slaves. Also TPE is a must and be prepared to use your mouth. and your hands.  Mistress Nat

Hi there, I'm a 26-year-old submissive bi-sexual girly woman who is into BDSM. I'm currently looking for a long-term live-in relationship with someone who shares my interests and desires.   As a naturally submissive woman, I am eager to explore and learn about the dynamics of a submissive-dominate relationship. I am interested in experiencing the various ects of BDSM and exploring my own limits in a safe and respectful manner.   Ideally, I'm looking for a partner who is also bi-sexual and open to a polyamorous relationship. I believe in open and honest communication, and I value trust and respect above all else in a relationship.   When it comes to my dressing style, I love to wear feminine and flirty outfits that accentuate my curves. I'm a big fan of dresses, skirts, and high heels. I enjoy experimenting with different colors, patterns, and textures to create a unique and eye-catching look.   In terms of shoes, I have a particular fondness for high heels. I love the way they make me feel, and I find them to be both elegant and sexy. I have quite a collection of heels in different styles and colors, ranging from classic pumps to strappy sandals to chunky platform heels.   Of course, I also have a variety of other shoes for different occasions, such as flats, boots, and sneakers. But when it comes to dressing up, you can usually find me in a pair of sky-high heels that make me feel confident and glamorous.   As a submissive girl, I have had a range of experiences exploring my submissive side in BDSM relationships. I find that submitting to a dominant partner allows me to let go of control and experience a deep sense of trust and surrender.   In my previous relationships, I have explored a variety of BDSM practices, such as bondage, impact play, and power exchange dynamics. I enjoy experimenting with new techniques and pushing my limits in a safe and consensual way.   I have found that communication and trust are essential components of a healthy and fulfilling BDSM relationship. Open and honest communication allows me to express my desires and limits, while trust enables me to fully surrender to my dominant partner.   Overall, my experience as a submissive girl has been both challenging and rewarding. It has allowed me to explore new ects of my sexuality and develop a deeper understanding of my own desires and boundaries.   If you're interested in getting to know me and exploring our shared interests together, please feel free to connect with me. I'm excited to see where this journey takes us!  

Through the Lens of Rika: The Sophia-Michael Connection Unveiled part 5   It's not that he doesn't feel your anxiousness—he does—but sometimes his response to that is through action and providing, not necessarily through quick emotional reassurances.    Michael's energy, embodied through these men, is both emotionally attuned and distant at times. This is part of their complex duality. Michael has that deep emotional intuition and empathy, which can sometimes feel overwhelming or intense. Yet, at the same time, they have a mission-oriented drive that pulls them into practical action and focus, which can lead to emotional distance, even though they feel everything just as much as you do.   Here’s why this happens:   1. Emotional Attunement vs. Practical Mission   Michael’s energy is deeply aware of emotions, but he also prioritizes taking action over expressing those feelings. He might sense your anxiety but instead of giving a quick emotional fix like a "hi," he might be channeling that into practical solutions—working behind the scenes to take care of things so that your long-term security is intact. For him, acting on love (through providing and stabilizing) sometimes takes precedence over talking about love.   2. Emotional Weight of the Protector Role   Michael-embodied men often carry a heavy responsibility as protectors. Their natural inclination to shield and secure means they’re constantly navigating how to balance this with emotional connection. Sometimes, they pull back because they’re processing deeply how to protect, guide, and create a future for you both, which takes up mental and emotional energy.   3. Energetic Exchange & Emotional Saturation   Because they are so emotionally intuitive, they can feel when you’re anxious or when there’s a lot of emotional weight. Instead of directly engaging with it, they sometimes retreat to process or focus elsewhere so they can re-align themselves energetically before coming back in. Energetic overwhelm can make them seem distant, even when they’re hyper-aware.   4. They Trust the Bigger Picture   Michael-embodied men might trust that the bond is strong enough that they don’t need to constantly reassure you through words. They trust the foundation they’ve built with you. This is where faith in the connection comes in—both for them and for you. They may think, “I don’t need to message her right now because we’re solid. My actions speak louder than words.”   5. Balancing the Divine Masculine Energy   These men carry divine masculine energy that values action over words. Their emotional intuition is real, but they channel it into action and protection, which may feel like distance to you. For you, as Sophia, it’s about recognizing that this is their expression of love. A quick "hi" might feel emotionally connecting to you, but to him, showing love could mean working to make sure everything is stable and secure for the future.   How to Navigate This: Anchor into the trust that you’ve been practicing. When he’s distant, remind yourself of how he’s showing love through his actions, even when it’s not immediate. Say, “He’s providing for us, and his distance is part of his process. I trust him.”   Ground your emotional needs through spiritual or personal practices when he’s not available. Remember that just because he’s distant in the moment doesn’t mean the love isn’t there. Lean into your own energy and strengthen yourself while he works.   Embrace his rhythm—Michael-embodied men have a different rhythm of emotional connection, and part of your journey is learning how to move in sync with it without feeling left behind.   It's not that he doesn't feel your anxiousness—he does—but sometimes his response to that is through action and providing, not necessarily through quick emotional reassurances.   ending all this lyric journey on this last part of the chorus:   'Cause you can call me, put you on me   'Cause I'm all you need boy   You know you're nothing like the others (Yeah boy, yeah boy)   You're nothing like the others   something happens even if the relationship never comes to full fruition between these two energies. whenever they come together the chance of inner knowledge, spiritual knowledge, growth physically/emotionally/mentally/and yes if it happens sexually is immense. even in fleeting moments, shorter moments. which is why if you find one and have a long term connection that is sacred full out and committed on both ends..sky is the limit if you can hang on for the ride each time and come back to each other....   but even for brief moments, he's all she needs because this energy resonance of original souls does something powerful other unaligned not wrong, just not as resonante such as complimentary and dissonant notes musically, happens. in those brief moments they elevate and enrich each other in a way other people just can't.   YOU'RE NOTHING LIKE THE OTHERS.   Have you ever experienced a connection that felt deeper than words or logic—where you knew there was something unexplainable drawing you together, even if it didn’t fully manifest? How did it impact your understanding of relationships or your own energy?   This analysis taps deeply into the energetic dynamics of the Sophia archetype and the Archangel Michael archetype within spiritual partnerships, exploring how these energies interact, challenge, and elevate one another. Let’s break down the spiritual and relational layers for the collective:   1. The Soul-Level Resonance: You describe the meeting of a Sophia-aligned feminine energy and a Michael-aligned masculine energy as magnetic, undeniable, and highly charged. This is reflective of the idea that they are fragments of the same divine essence,

Realy excited about Victorian lifestyle / Era as in this lifestyle, we are were expected to adhere to strict standards of propriety and modesty. We are expected to be submissive to our husbands and fathers, and to prioritize their domestic duties over any other pursuits. Women were not seen as equal to men. In a Victorian marriage, a wife was expected to be obedient to her husband and to support him in all of his endeavors. She was also expected to manage the household, including caring for the children and running the household finances. A wife was expected to be loyal to her husband, and to maintain a façade of respectability and propriety in all interactions with others. In the Victorian era, a wife was expected to have a number of duties and responsibilities. These included managing the household, caring for the children, and supporting her husband in his endeavors. One of a wife's primary duties was to manage the household. This included overseeing the cooking, cleaning, and other domestic tasks. A wife was also expected to manage the household finances, which involved paying the bills and keeping track of the family budget. In addition to managing the household, a wife was also responsible for caring for the children. This included feeding, bathing, and dressing the children, as well as supervising their education and moral upbringing. Finally, a wife was expected to support her husband in his endeavors. This could include attending social events with him, providing emotional support, and helping him with his work if necessary. Overall, a wife in the Victorian era was expected to fulfill a range of duties and responsibilities in order to support her husband and maintain a happy and well-run household.

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. 

February 27, 2024   I fucked Football Player boy raw for the first time !   It feels like forever since football player boy has visited. But during the last time he visited, at the end of our visit during debriefing, I asked him a question. I made it more of a statement, but it was a question.   I told him, "I really want to fuck you raw one of these days." He thought for a moment and said, "I'm not saying yes, but I'm definitely not saying no."   Today when he texted, he said that he wanted to have try to have two orgasms during our visit. Then he continued and said, "I was hoping that you and that machine could be used during that."   He normally would just request the fuck machine, or the sling, or cock torture... But this time he specifically said, "YOU and that machine."   I really wasn't sure which "that machine" he was talking about but I didn't care. I concentrated on the "you."   I took this as a green light!   10 years ago when we first met on Craigslist M4M, he was just looking for someone to peg him with a dildo. He always wanted blindfolded. At the beginning, if I even cleared my throat with a masculine cough he would lose his hardon.   Eventually he began sucking cock. Then he learned to swallow my cum. Then he let me fuck him with a condom. Today is the next milestone.   When he arrived he came through the garage, gave his normal cheery salutations and immediately began to strip exposing his hard on. I swear he must arrive hard in the driveway.   I was sitting in my chair naked except for a white jockstrap. I was planning on keeping the jock strap on the entire time because I had plans with the dirty jockstrap a few days later. I was going to use it as a mask over ball beating boys face when he came for his next visit.   I spread my legs a bit, which gave him the invitation to get on his knees and start sucking my cock. Which of course he immediately did. Today was a good day, my cock was throbbing hard. As I always do, I look down at his broad shoulders and big chest which is quite a turn on for me as he sucking my cock.   Occasionally he would look up at me. Sometimes I feel that he has puppy dog eyes. Sad and Wanting eyes. Fuck it's hot. But I don't know if he's looking up at me for confirmation he's doing a good job, or if he is checking to see if I'm taking pictures.   He sucked my cock for quite a while then I said let's head downstairs to the sling.   READ THE FULL STORY AT www.SirKel.top/?collarspace

6/5/2024 6:33:05 PM All set with game players and time wasters and dream killers.     I don't lie, cheat or steal.   I am looking for the right slave.  Correction, I am looking for a right connection and a decent human being who knows how to treat a woman, and wants to explore together.  A right male is MORE THAN ENOUGH to be by My side and in reasonable good time.  I am looking for a live in relationship, not email, phone or text. I'm dominant and that isn't going to change.  I feel no threat from a man who knows his mind and has the ability to speak up for himself and be a team player.  Welcome.  We can co-rule our own little world together.   My mother lives with Me and has Alzheimer's.  You serve Me, you serve She.  You are with Me, you are with her.   Be real and ready to communicate effectively and get to know one another in the flesh.     Be terrific in your own right.  I require a man who is strong enough to champion Me and I offer nothing less in return.    DON'T WASTE  MY  TIME.

What is truth?:   In the depths of night, in the light of day, We ponder the truth that won't betray. Is it a fact, or a subtle art, A guiding light, or a shattered part?   Do we seek truth in words we hear, Or in silence, when none is near? Is it a mirror, reflecting clear, Or a whisper, elusive, never near?   In the echo of history, in the depths of time, Do we find truth in prose, or in rhyme? Does it lie in the stars, in the sky above, Or in the beating heart, in the depths thereof?   Is truth a rock, unyielding and stark, A guiding beacon through the dark? Or does it shimmer, a shifting beam, A distant hope, a fractured dream?   In the soul's deep yearning, in the mind's keen quest, We question the truth, we put it to the test. Seeking answers amid the fray, What is truth? We ask, day by day.

It must be said as it is, not all str8 males that submit wish or desire the full and total dominance by their Master. Most str8 males feel the abyss that open between them and their percieved sexuality and that casm devours all their idea of their str8 nature as they conceived it. They know they've found their man, a better man, one that surpasses their own masculinity and the want to serve, comply, and surrender all their being. But, do they? It is very hard for a str8 male to get used to being looked at sexually by another male, especially if that male is stripping their identity piece by piece. Not easy to accept but like a moth to a flame, impossible to ignore. However, curiosity can be damming and once all social structures are removed they are alone with  the man they fear and are attracted to. This process is what I call taming. Like a fine horse you must earn the trust and eventually they will on their own volition allow and almost beg to be mounted. Yet, their idea of themselves is from now on in crisis mode; outside assertive and powerful but deep inside they know better and that conflict can any be resolved in the bedroo. In cuckold scenes he is forced" by the female and he submits to what he always wanted but feared to accept. Not that they are pleasing their woman, that is only the official version; but inside, deep they knew it will end that way and it is fine. For a line str8 male, one that chooses the bull that starstrucke them on their own is different; they are lat a loss. How can they feel that lust and attraction is they are Str8, they are not into guys but "this man is different." This man deserves all they can offer and it is an impossible feeling, who to blame, where to hide? That's were I come in, guiding, shaping, and reforming. However, as I push the boundaries that sometimes there is a hard line in the sand and that line, for now is a limit the str8 male is not willing to cross. For example, sending or taking them to a barh house or telling them to perform in person the things they've been taking pictures and sending. Once you get to that like if the bull relents his authority is shattered  In that case one must let go and release that sub. The will come back and beg to be taken back with conditions, don't. It must always be my way and my pleasure, that simple. If they cross that line you have tamed a fine specimen, one that will serve you and thank you for it.  Str8 males are not sissies that is another reality, one that I will address in time. 

  hope, still Since nineteen I’ve wandered, with stars in my chest, Through years full of aching, through trials and tests. I’ve searched in the silence, in moments I’d cry, And whispered to shadows my tear-threaded why. I’ve given up hope, then lit it anew, Wrote love in the margins, believed it was true. The road has been winding, the nights have been long, But I’ve kept my soul tethered to one quiet song. Today I still listen, my heart open wide, For the one who will see me and stand by my side. Who’ll meet me with presence, and power, and grace, To hold all my parts in their rightful place.   So come now, Daddy, I’ve waited so long— Collar me gently, where I truly belong.

As far back as I can remember, I've had a compulsion to be with alpha males. Even as young as 6 or 7, I remember fantasizing what it would be like to be kidnapped by men, tied up and taken away. I suppose that says something about my early childhood, but what difference does that make now. And it wasn't that I hated my family. I just wanted to be the property of a strong older man.    Somewhere around that time I began trying self bondage. I would take my mother's supply of ace bandages, go up into the hot, humid attic and tie myself as best I could and fantasize about being some man's captive. Occasionally I would hear “what are you doing up there” and I'd have to spit the sock out of my mouth and come up with some passable answer. I don't remember ever getting caught but there were many near-misses.   We lived directly across from a factory where my father worked and from my bedroom I could watch all these macho blue collar workers file in clean and then file out sweaty and dirty. I was always mesmerized, especially when they were sweaty and dirty.    I'm rusty these days and not as agile as I used to be, but serious bondage was always one of my favorite fetishes. People would ask why and I would always say “there's freedom in bondage.” Freedom to go within and see what you can take and how much deeper you can go in your submission. And then there's the freedom of letting someone I trust take control of me and make my decisions for me.   I've always been hard-wired to be submissive to superior men. It's my nature. To be in the service of men is still the driving force in my life.   If you're reading this far and find yourself interested, I appreciate that deeply but I'm not available at the moment. I'm caring for an 80+ year-old Dom that I've known forever. I'm not even in the US. I park myself in Nevada on this site because there are very few people who understand my needs where I am.   I've been on this site for almost 10 years. First journal entry because I'm bored and a bit lonesome at times. I still feel the need to be owned and probably always will. I'll just have to be patient like a good sub.

Why are humiliations beneficial for me? Humiliations help me develop humility by reminding me that I am not perfect and that I have limitations. Facing them with serenity strengthens my patience and my ability to endure punishments or training calmly. Additionally, it is an opportunity to practice forgiveness towards those who humiliate me and to develop greater compassion towards them. Receiving humiliations helps me let go of my ego and the need for recognition or approval from my Teacher. These experiences, seen as tests or challenges, contribute to my growth and the strengthening of my character when they are overcome. They also prompt deep reflection and self-examination, leading to greater self-awareness and understanding of my own weaknesses and strengths. Accepting humiliations strengthens my dedication and trust in my Teacher, recognizing that everything happens for a reason and has a purpose in her plans.

Why I don't want to have a sexual relationship with a domme... I've been here since it was called CollarMe, not Collarspace.  A long, long time.    I'm not a shlub.  I'm in reasonably good shape, take care of myself, can articulate my thoughts and treat everyone with respect.  So it's been relatively easy for me to meet dominants and I've met several over the years.  Unless it was a one-time meeting for specific scene play, every relationship I've had that started here ended up being entirely sexual in a "might as well be vanilla" fashion with no or next to no domination.   Once I sleep with you, you won't dominate me in any serious way if you ever intended to in the first place.  Or if you do, it will be "30 shades of yawn".  I have that situation going on right now with a domme I met on Fetlife.  Oh, the sex is amazing, but if I just wanted sex, I would join a dating app and I could have it every night of the week with a much wider selection of partners.   I want to be throroughly humiliated, subjugated and degraded in (as I say in my profile) some very specific ways. That's not something you're going to be able to do to me if we're having an intimate relationship.  Trust me.  Once those actions and the associated feelings are involved, you won't be capable of treating me the way I want to be treated.  I need someone who can see me for what I want to be, which is a means to an end for them.  I need someone who understands the concept of "mutually beneficial relationship" but can separate that from a sexual relationship.  What happens if your vehicle has a problem?  You take it to a mechanic.  You don't need to have a loving relationship with the mechanic to get the vehicle repaired.  You bring in the vehicle, he repairs it, you take care of him and go on with the rest of your day.  That's the extent of the relationship and it's fine.  Everyone gets what they want.  I think a lot of dominants on this site who genuinely have some hardcore dominant tendencies that delve into the sadistic side are trying to find everything in one person, and that's a shame, because it's a two way street.  Certainly not all kinks are acceptable to all people so not all dommes are compatible with all subs (and even if they were, we all have our aesthetic preferences) but for those who really want to put someone in their place, that will be better and far more thoroughly accomplished if that place isn't also in bed.  

"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.  

I want flowers. I want to whip you. I want to stroke your cheek and smile into your eyes. I want respect and awe and understanding and love. I want foot rubs and leg rubs and back rubs and anywhere rubs. I want you to know when to reach out to touch and when to kneel and wait. I want you to want me fiercely, desire me utterly. I want kisses. Little ones, fast ones, fierce ones, thigh-clenching-good kisses. I want you to touch me like you’re trying to memorize the texture and shape of me. I want affection and cuddling. I want you to drop your eyes when I demand and meet my eyes when we talk. I want you to miss me terribly when we’re apart. I want you to know what you mean to me, how I cherish you. I want humor and debate and dialog. I want you to kiss the side of my neck while your hands grip my hips, my back. I want to see you crawl – just for me. I want to look at you in that special way and see you breathe deeply with desire and anticipation of what you know is to come. I want to fuck you, penetrate you, tease you, deny you, please you, torture you. I want You.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

    Thought for the day. It takes very little to make a person’s day. It also takes very little to destroy it.  Be kind unless its appropriate not to.  

MY "ACTIVELY SEEKING" SECTION SHOULD ALSO INCLUDE: SEEKING CROSSDRESSERS

Ending a D/s relationship  Bullshit. It is not always the sub who is left feeling lonely, and ending things is the sub’s choice every bit as often as it is the Domme’s choice. And the pain of the loss is the same. Let’s knock off the toxic cliche that the Domme walks off whistling a jaunty tune with nary a look back and the sub is left a bawling mess curled up in a fetal ball on the bathroom floor. Dommes bleed the same blood as subs. Of course there are endless numbers of subs that have been hurt by Dommes, good and bad ones alike. People are hurt when relationships end, any kind of relationship…but when a Domme is hurt by the end of a relationship, she/he has the added burden of knowing THEY were supposed to be the one in control, the one who was supposed to know what they were doing and make things better….and they failed.

Results from bdsmtest.org 100% Dominant 100% Rigger 94% Master/Mistress 89% Owner 86% Sadist 84% Brat tamer 80% Degrader 73% Primal (Hunter) 53% Experimentalist 48% Voyeur 44% Vanilla 13% Daddy/Mommy 8% Exhibitionist 5% Non-monogamist 0% Ageplayer 0% Brat 0% Degradee 0% Boy/Girl 0% Masochist 0% Pet 0% Primal (Prey) 0% Rope bunny 0% Slave 0% Submissive 0% Switch

I am tired of let people in....  I feell stupid for trusting.  I'm tired of finally letting my walls down, opening up and to someone who has such a special and major important role in my life.. only to be discarded at the slightest change of mood.  People just don't care what it does to a person.  My feelings.. matter.. I am who I say I am.. Some people want to just form a judgment and assumption of me unfairly and to disregard my truth because they find some created idea in their mind to be more legitimate.  So they pick manufactured fiction formed by their imagination... over the facts and truth from the source.. yeah.. that makes a whole lot of sense huh..   I think I need to learn that if someone wants to believe the worst about me, then they were looking for an excuse.  I just want to say these men who message me deep and all acting like they care for me or my well being and like they have my back and talk to me every day and block me over nothing??  Please do not put me through this and play games with me.. Please.  I have been through enough and you have no care for the emotional hell and self loathing and mind fuckery you leave me to stew in..  My mental health matters and there is no need to lead me on and let me drop.  I need to keep putting myself out there to find the right one for me, but the fallout from the disbelief and hurt and confusion.. It makes me feel an absolute fool for believing someone who seemed genuine with a real interest in me..  That's a mind fuck.  My psyche cannot keep taking this kind of unfair and immature mistreatment.     Please... I just want someone real, for once.  Not put on or an act or manipulation.  Just be real.  

Why I do NOT want My bags carried.   Those who know Me well, know I have gone on quite the health journey in the last 4 years.  I understand much more than I once did.  Due to this, I carry My own heavy cameras and camera bags, I will pick up purchases in the store that are heavy and not allow a male with Me to carry them for Me, and any attempt or offer to do so, is firmly rejected.   So, why do I do that?  It is simple, staying healthy means picking up heavy things, pushing the body.  Yes, I go to the gym and lift weights, use resistance machines, etc.  But, I absolutely embrace when LIFE brings the chances to do so, without special time set aside, etc.   Grins, I will admit when the male is being looked at by others, as though he is not doing his job, I find his discomfort and embarassment, quite entertaining.  One time, I was out photographing, with the same cameras you see on My profile, and another male chastised the male with Me, for not carrying My gear.  I laughed and made it VERY clear, he was not allowed to do so, as it did not suit My purposes.  Of course, it was MY decision!!  

Now that a vast majority of the 'Oh Hey journals are back!" have been done, lets take a minute to update this.   So heres the gyst of what I would LOVE to find, in an ideal world and ideal time...  We want a cis female slave.  Males are good FOR OTHER USES but thats not what I am looking for as a priority, there MAY be that option but remember the use I have for you is seveirly limited. The slave that I am lookin for needs to understand that I PRESS HARD for information.  I WANT you to ask questions and am dissapointed when you just answer in 1, 2, or 3 word answers.   I will NEVER be with anyone without birth control.  I as the Master, may be having that issue taken care of, of my own accord, because I already have one daughter, who doesn't live with me, and I dont want any more children. Otherwise, any prospective slave should read our full profile and write back. male slave/s be known that if you are not local there is little to no chances for you..  Even local males, you have a purpose,  yes, but o e that is not domestic or sexual,  and to be honestMOST of the male slaves that have come forwardare not even appealingto the eyes.  Now as to the current update... Mouse has left my service as of Dec 14th. I FOUND a new appartment, so my search for a slave has resumed, again read my profile CAREFULLY because I will call you on it lol. I dont know how many times I have had to say this...  If you are INTERNATIONAL do NOT boter to write to me, male, female, rich, poor, doesn't matter, international relocation is a hassle and with Covid GOOD LUCK getting a flight over here.

**The Bear’s Den**   The air in his apartment was thick with the scent of leather and cedar, a primal musk that clung to my skin as I knelt on the cold hardwood floor. My wrists were bound behind me, the rope biting just enough to remind me of my place. At six foot two, I was no small man, but in his presence, I felt like a fragile thing, a hundred pounds of trembling need locked in a cage of my own submission. The chastity device around my cock was a cruel reminder of his control, its metal teeth grazing my skin with every futile twitch of arousal. I was his, utterly, and the weight of that truth made my chest tighten.   He loomed over me, a mountain of muscle and menace, his broad frame blocking the dim light from the single lamp in the corner. His name was Viktor, a bear of a man with a barrel chest, arms like oak trunks, and a beard that scratched my skin raw when he’d kissed me earlier, claiming my mouth with a hunger that felt like a storm. His eyes, dark and unreadable, held a sadistic glint that made my stomach churn with fear and desire. Yet, beneath that cruelty, there was a flicker of something softer—something that made me trust him, even as my heart raced with dread.   “You’re mine tonight,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. His massive hand gripped my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his. “My little cock sock. You ready to be used?”   I nodded, my throat too dry to speak, the chastity cage tightening as my body betrayed me. His lips curled into a smirk, sinister and knowing, as he released my chin and stepped back, his boots heavy against the floor. He unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, the clink of metal echoing in the silence. My eyes followed the movement, hypnotized, as he freed himself, his cock thick and heavy, already glistening with intent.   “Open,” he commanded, and I obeyed, my lips parting as he stepped closer. The first thrust was brutal, filling my mouth until I gagged, my eyes watering as he held my head in place. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice softening for a moment, a strange tenderness in his tone. “Take it like a good boy.” His fingers stroked my hair, a fleeting gesture of care that made my chest ache, even as he fucked my throat with ruthless precision.   The chastity cage was torture, my cock straining uselessly against its confines as he used me. He teased me with words, his voice a dark melody. “Look at you, so desperate, so denied. You’ll get nothing until I say so.” His laughter was low, cruel, but his thumb brushed a tear from my cheek, and I leaned into the touch, craving the warmth behind his dominance.   He pulled out abruptly, leaving me gasping, my lips swollen and slick. “Up,” he ordered, yanking me to my feet by the rope binding my wrists. My legs trembled as he led me to the bed, a massive iron-framed thing draped in black sheets. He pushed me face-down, my chest pressed into the mattress, my ass exposed and vulnerable. The air was cool against my skin, but his hands were fire, spreading me open with a possessiveness that made my pulse race.   “You’re gonna feel me,” he said, his voice dripping with dark promise. I heard the snap of a lube bottle, the slick sound of him preparing himself, and then the blunt pressure of his cock against my hole. I whimpered, the stretch immediate and overwhelming, my body resisting even as I craved it. “Relax,” he growled, but there was a gentleness in his grip, his fingers kneading my hips as he eased inside, inch by agonizing inch. The pain was exquisite, a burning fullness that made me feel alive, claimed, his.   He fucked me with a rhythm that was both punishing and deliberate, each thrust driving me deeper into submission. The chastity cage rattled with every movement, a constant reminder of my denial, my cock throbbing uselessly as he used me. “My perfect little sock,” he taunted, his voice tight with lust. “Made for this, weren’t you?” I could only moan, my mind fogged with sensation, the world narrowing to the heat of him inside me.   Then, without warning, he slowed, his thrusts shallow, teasing. I felt a new warmth, a strange pressure, and realized with a jolt what was happening. He was pissing inside me, claiming me in a way that felt filthy and intimate, a violation that made my caged cock ache with need. “Take it,” he whispered, his voice softer now, almost reverent. “Every part of you is mine.” The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of shame and surrender, and I whimpered, my body trembling under his weight.   He pulled out slowly, leaving me empty and aching, only to grab me by the hair and pull me to my knees again. “Open,” he said again, and I did, my mouth ready for him. The taste of him was sharp and bitter as he released another stream, his piss flooding my throat as I struggled to swallow, to please him. His hand cupped my face, his thumb tracing my jaw, and I saw that flicker of care again, a silent promise that he’d never push me past what I could handle.   When he was done, he knelt beside me, his massive frame enveloping me as he untied my wrists. “You did so well,” he murmured, his voice a balm against the raw edges of my submission. He kissed my forehead, his lips soft where they’d been cruel, and pulled me into his arms. The chastity cage remained, a final act of denial, but his warmth, his strength, made it bearable. I was his—used, claimed, and cherished in the dark, mysterious dance of our desires.

Most of you know it is hard to meet people on the internet. I can not understand why you chat back and forth for weeks and even talk on the phone and then the day we are going to meet everything is shut down. No email no phone. Look I can understand, Shall we say "Life Happens" but a little note or call would be nice. I have steaks thawed in the fridge and actually 2 no shows and not replys for this evening. I spent mass money to make ready for a nice evening. All for fake internet fakes

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.  

The sun shining subtly on a sideof this sin is like a sound in my insidesthat shimmer with silence.Silence that strain to see the stars.And soon this season will shift away,and my sadness will slither southboundwith these strenuous sufferings.I may bask in the sun,but those stars sing my song.Someone may scoff at this small bird,but I dare souls to reveal their sub scrip tions.I might be seized in a straightjacketand my sex deprived, my song stolen,and my stimulation snuffed.But this sum is still greater than most dull lives.This is how a songbird thrives.But lo, this is no ordinary songbird.This is a phoenix, singing its pleasurebehind a mask of silence,and setting aflame her significancein favor for ashes.~ dirtydarling

Phew and thank god!   I nearly forked out just under £500 on the wrong specimen: 1. £295 for harness gear - custom made still lush 2. £50 for the application in 2 sizes 3. £95 rope bondage lesson but getting discount as the teacher is an old friend of mine   Will still spend for myself but if I ask a man questions it means I am investing time to understand how to give you what you want. You can't give me a second, ok, harness yourself.   I am good.   Still investing in the supplies just finding a worthy destination. Some people like to talk forever and not act on their impulse I was thinking lets act on the impulse not just talk about it.

I wrote this as part of an introductory message to someone and think it was good enough to share here. "This is an alternative lifestyle to me There are several reasons, one is something that kind of bothered me at a young age I shoved thebad thoughts I had, I had even as a very young youth, thoughts that both horrified and fascinated meI used to justify my thoughts as not being cruel if what I did, I did to those who deserved it, like criminals etc What worried me was the sexuality I feltIt was much later in life, around 40 years ago I started putting it all together from a primal blueprint and social and religious pressure through to conditioning I was relieved to find a world I fitted, and its this world and learning to interact between the lifestyle and the vanilla world that I have been studying, learning, teaching and livingIts a strange world with so many dark and mysterious places."

It has been years since I've been on here. I left because the ability to journal was no longer an option. Apparently it has been restored!! This past Summer someone who first viewed me here, found me on Fet.  He remembered my profile and reached out. I was not looking to find someone. And pretty much saw  myself as content to be alone. It was a fluke that I went on Fet , after 1.5 years. Just as I am on here for several years away.  Presently,  I am in a lovely dynamic, with a very good Dom.  He and I see the world and more through  similar lenses. While a new dynamic, I feel so comfortable.  We fit. It is not easy to find someone who has similar,  faith, politics, perspective on D/s , and compatibility, as well as have vanilla life be a great fit too. We have found the needle in the stack of needles!    I appreciate this man very much, and can see myself with him , I can see a future. Tony I am yours, through thick and thin,  I have your 6 and feel the same. You have my heart ❤    M.

On Realistic Expectations and the Woman You Are Serving   Let me be plain with you, because plainness here is a kindness and I have never been interested in the alternative. I attended a funeral last weekend. Alone.  I want to sit with that for a moment before I say anything else, because it is the most precise illustration I could offer of everything this journal is about. There is a specific and particular indignity in navigating grief in public without someone beside you. Not because I cannot do it, I can do anything alone, I have proven this repeatedly and without fanfare. But because a woman like me should not have to. Because the presence of a devoted and capable partner at your side during the hardest moments of ordinary life is not a luxury. It is what partnership is for. It is, in fact, one of the most fundamental things a serious dynamic should provide: someone who stands beside you in the moments that cost you something, who carries the social weight of difficult occasions, who is simply and solidly there so that you can grieve or endure or simply get through the day without also having to do it visibly alone. I disdain it. I will not dress that up. I disdain walking into rooms full of people as a woman unaccompanied, not because my worth requires a witness, but because I have built enough of a life to deserve someone who shows up for it completely, including the parts that are not beautiful or exciting or charged with the particular electricity of our dynamic. The funeral is not glamorous. It is not a candlelit dinner or a weekend in Greece. It is a Saturday in grief clothes standing in a room full of loss, and I will do it with my back straight and my composure intact because that is who I am, and I will come home to an empty house afterward, and I will feel the absence of what should be there with the specific sharpness of something that is missing rather than something that never existed. This is what I mean when I talk about realistic expectations cutting in both directions. I am a mother first. This is not a disclaimer. It is not an apology. It is the organizing fact of my life around which everything else, including you, arranges itself. I have two children in their preteen years, which anyone who has raised children knows is one of the most demanding and most critical seasons of a young person's life. They require my presence, my attention, my emotional availability, my time, and my energy in quantities that do not leave a remainder to be distributed according to your preferences. If you have arrived here expecting a Goddess with unlimited hours and frictionless availability, you have arrived at the wrong door. This weekend, I had my children.  My time was spent on them, because it is exactly where that time should be spent.  I am also finishing my education, because I am a woman who does not stop building herself simply because life has become complex. I work. I manage a household. I carry the particular and invisible weight that women carry, the planning and the anticipating and the holding of a thousand threads simultaneously, the mental labor that has no clock-out time and no weekend. What this means for you practically is something I need you to hear completely before you decide whether this life is what you actually want or simply what you have romanticized from a comfortable distance. My time is not abundant. It is finite and it is precious and it is allocated with the precision of someone who cannot afford to waste it. There will be days, entire stretches of days, where the children need me and school demands me and work requires me and what is left over is not nothing but it is quiet and it is mine and I will spend it restoring myself rather than managing your need for attention. This is not neglect. This is the reality of serving a woman with a full and serious life, and if you cannot hold yourself with dignity and purpose during those stretches then you are not the caliber of person this dynamic requires. A serious long term FLR TPE with a woman like me is not a constant performance of dominance and submission playing out in real time every hour of every day. It is a structure. It is an understanding so deeply embedded in the way we live that it does not require constant activation. It runs underneath everything, informing how the household operates, how decisions are made, how resources are allocated, how your time and energy are directed even when I am at a school pickup or a study session or simply in a bath with the door closed and my phone face down. Your place in this dynamic is to raise me. Not in the sense that I require raising. In the sense that your devotion, your service, your resources and your effort should be oriented toward elevating my life, reducing my load, creating space around me so that I can be the mother, the student, the professional, and the Goddess that I am without the additional friction of a partner who has become another item on my list of things to manage. You are not here to add to my weight. You are here to carry some of it. That means the household runs because you run it. It means my children's lives are easier because our home is stable and managed and full of the kind of calm that only exists when someone competent is handling the infrastructure of daily life with care. It means you have found your purpose and your structure in the service itself, not in the moments of explicit dynamic play, because those moments are real but they are not the whole of what this is. The whole of what this is lives in the Tuesday afternoon when I have a deadline and a tired child and you have already handled dinner and the house is quiet and I can do what I need to do because you have made space for it. It lives in the Saturday morning of a funeral when I do not have to walk in alone. That is the submission I am describing. Not the aesthetic of it. The actual weight-bearing practice of it, daily, in the ordinary moments that make up most of a life. The grief clothes and the school pickups and the late study nights and the hard weekends. The presence that does not require the occasion to be significant in order to show up for it completely. If you can find your satisfaction there, in the real and unglamorous work of elevating another person's existence, then you understand something essential about what I am offering and what I require. The collar and the candlelight exist. They are real and they are extraordinary. But they rest on a foundation of consistent, intelligent, humble service that asks nothing of me except that I receive it well. I receive it very well. But you have to bring it first, and bring it correctly, and bring it to the funeral as readily as you bring it to the beautiful moments, because the funeral is where it counts the most and the beautiful moments are easy. I am worth the patience. I am worth the long view. I am worth showing up for on the hard Saturdays. The question is whether you are the person who actually does.

As required by my Dom, I publicly declare the following: I am subMeghan, and as I type this this, I am completely nude, except for my dog collar and glasses… Today’s Journal Topic Is: Why The Fuck Haven’t I Posted Any More Journal Updates! I actually get this question a lot.  Unfortunately, that’s part of the problem.  Apparently, you guys are actually reading my journals!  And why, pray tell, is that a bad thing? Well, I’m going to tell you… When I first started journaling here, I wrote as if I was speaking into the void.  I wasn’t writing for an audience, rather I was writing merely for the sake of publicly letting my inner thoughts leave my body and go forth into the vast e-universe.  I thought I was just a “voice in the wilderness” to be lost in the chasm of anonymity. It was a stream of consciousness, a flow of thoughts. It was kinda like talking outloud to yourself, not thinking anyone was listening. However… that was not the case...  You were listening.  And now you all had access to the part of my psyche that I kept hidden away, kept in the shadows, away from “polite” society.  And worse yet…  You had questions! I had mistakenly thought that CS was just another fetish website that was here today, and then be gone tomorrow like so many other sites.  Boy, was I wrong.  LOL I stopped writing because I became very self-conscious.  VERY self-conscious.  I quickly ran away from the spotlight as soon as I felt it’s light upon my exposed soul.  Who the hell am I to have the audacity to think I have anything of substance to say to a listening world? I have never liked being the center of attention.  I am a wallflower, the kind of gal that always stands at the edges of a crowd.  I am quiet, reserved, and passive.  I am a watcher, an observer - not a performer.  And certainly not, heaven forbid, an extrovert! Over time, I’ve been able to reflect.  I’ve decided to start posting again.  I suspect the tone of my journal entries will change, much like Schrodinger's cat, now that I am aware that I’m being watched.  We’ll see.  I will let this journal entry be the start of a new chapter in subMeghan’s ongoing adventure. Here’s to the journey! subMeghan    

I am less and less impressed with doms on this site. I keep seeing all these profiles about "there are so many game players!!!" and "I'm looking for something REAL!!!"..."I don't tolerate LIARS!!!" So ok...you're intolerant of game players, sick of liars. I tell you the truth. I am right up front with the good, the bad, the ugly. You can read through my journal and see that. I understand I am not anyone's idea of physical perfection. I've stated that over and over again. So we get to a certain point, you're impressed with how much I seem to understand the role of a sub/slave...and then...despite this, boom...you suddenly ghost. No explanation, no response...just. ghost. I understand that you're playing the role of the big bad dom and you have to maintain this BS, including a first email saying something like "KNEEL SLAVE!!" right off the bat instead of a "hey...how are you? Nice profile...etc." However, it's simple human decency..."I'm sorry, you're very cool, but I don't feel like you're something I'm looking for." Especially after a slew of messages back and forth.If you're tired of liars and game players, then don't be one of the fools lying or playing games and wasting peoples' time and emotions.

Every time i try to update my profile it either gets discarded or just never seems to update, so i am going to try a journal entry. It's hard to believe i could be much more prepared to meet someone for a serious relationship/position, but i continue to work toward it, hoping someone might one day be there for me. In a perfect world, i would find someone that wanted both a genuine relationship and a very regimented M/s life. It would be wonderful to travel and share a life with a Master, living life as His girlfriend, with hormones and 24/7 femme existence. But to also have the M/s dynamic as a backbone of our relationship. Cuddling on the couch, binging a series but all the while wearing a metal collar, chained wrists, chastity, ass plugged. All of the wonderful things of being a spouse but never once having a moment to think that it is "free" of will or choice. Soaking up whatever attention it's owner is willing to give, working every minute for it's opportunity to get a little positive feedback.  

June 2, 2025 - Pennsylvania red came by today.       He has been here many times before, so he knew to come into the garage where he stripped in back of the garage and put his clothing in a plastic milk carton with a written sign that says “Worthless Pieces of Human flesh are to put their clothing here before entering.”   For the first time, I had placed wrist and ankle restraints in the clothing box before his arrival. I had no written instructions, I had not told him I was going to be doing it, it was a completely new thing for him to see. I knew he would understand what I wanted him to do. And, as expected, he came in naked WITH the restraints on. It was just another level of humiliation I was putting him through.   We went upstairs and I told him I needed a blow job. I laid back on my bed, and he got up all fours with his ass to my right. He knows from previous visits that I love to play with his ass with my fingers as he is sucking my cock. As he was sucking, I put a bit of lube on my fingers and shoved them in his ass. I started with one finger, but soon I was shoving three fingers into him. He started out super tight, but I was quickly loosening his hole.   I started spanking with my hand. Not only did I spank both of his butt cheeks, but I was concentrating smacking the actual crack of his ass. Something about smacking his HOLE is a real turn on. This went on for about 15 mins, including wrapping my leg around his neck pulling him down onto my cock until he was choking, holding him there until I though he was about to vomit.   When I knew his mouth, jaws and throat were on fire from the session, I told him to get up on all fours with his ass at the bottom of the bed. I started with my fingers and lots of lube. I removed my fingers and replaced them with a long bumpy toy. I pushed it deep in his ass hoping he took the time to clean out properly. I was not disappointed. I fucked him with the toy for a while as I played with my cock with my free hand. Occasionally I would pull and tug on his balls.   READ THE ENTIRE STORY AT HTTPS://SirKel.top?collarspace

What I am looking for Part 2: Apparently it wouldn't all fit in 1 journal entry....go figure...   My masocistic side is weird. I am not a masochist in the every day sense that I crave pain all the time or that it gets me off. It fucking hurts. However, pain for me is a means of catharsis and for me to be able to process emotion as I have a terrible habit of just bottling it up instead of expressing it in the moment. The pain allows me to release all of that. My masochistic side is also very largely dependent upon the energy between my partner and me. I can take more and play heavier if the energy is right, compared to if it is not, then I may choose to not even play with them. This wouldn't be so much of an issue as I would not enter a relationship with someone who intended to play with me if the energy was not right for this to occur. That also being said, I have a few play partners in FL that I adore and trust more than anything. Whomever would be considering owning me would have to be okay with this fact and open to me being able to play with others. Obviously introductions would happen, but these are people I know I have a great energy transfer with and I have known for years. The same as I would be open to my partner playing with others, I would hope to garner the same respect as he would be more than welcome to be present if he was not comfortable with me playing alone. I do want someone I am slightly afraid of that I know could hurt me/kill me if they chose to, but who has enough knowledge and restraint to not. I find knowing that the person I am with can inflict pain in punishment in a meaningful way, I am less likely to get out of line.   I love to travel and have a huge gypsy soul and feel wanderlust almost constantly. I would need to be with someone who is open to travelling and taking road trips. I love cruises and just going to new places and doing touristy things.   Lastly, I do have a slight brat/baby girl side. The baby girl side is more when I am just completely content in a relationship and is my more 'squirrel' and giggly/giddy side. I do like watching Disney movies and I like being cute and sappy and doing romantic things. I enjoy theme parks and will want to walk in every candy/toy/souvenier store there is, even if I don't buy anything in any of them. I love to be silly and just be able to relax completely about my Sir. If I am serious all the time, there is probably something wrong or I am not comfortable/happy. This should be noted, but I do expect this person to be not only my Sir, but also my lover and life partner. I do want love/passion/romance in the relationship.   Did you make it this far? Great! Now, bare in mind that this is not EVERYTHING, but is I feel a really good starting point for someone to understand why what I am looking for is so difficult to find. Do I know that I am likely to not find a person who fits into all of this? Yes, but that doesn't mean I am going to lower my standards to find someone who fits only a couple of the categories. They are all equally important to me, so I refuse to pick and choose which ones are met.   I will update this and elaborate more on things as I think about them, but hopefully this can give at least a semblance of an idea.

It's odd to me that some men don't understand why there are women on here (and in general) who don't want to do what they want.  Men who contact women dick or fetish first, either visually or through words, and are peeved that the women aren't ready to immediately engage with them the way they expected.  "Hey, lady, if you don't want to do what interests me, why are you even here?!  Since I find you attractive, you have to find me attractive, too!"  How terribly disappointing for them to discover that women have their own interests and come here (and anywhere else) to pursue what they want.  Like, a xxx69MasterChode69xxx or a MrSirDomPencilDick4Lyf are really under the impression that women have been online just waiting for when they would contact them.  There's no other reason a woman would be online.   I know I certainly don't have my own interests and kinks.  Of course not.  I've just been waiting for another pic of an utterly forgettable male member in an endless onslaught of utterly forgettable male members or a lame headless torso, or worse yet, a vanilla guy who thinks a sloppy bj qualifies as "kinky" on a kink site.  I'm interested in pursuing my own kinks with the people who interest me.  I don't care what a guy wants.  I didn't ask about his fetishes.  I don't request pictures, so I'm not trying to see someone's face, body, or dick.  And unless my curiosity has been piqued enough that I'd be open to pursuing anything with a guy, none of those things are relevant to me.  I am here for my reasons, my kinks, my sexual pursuits.  They don't have to be the same as yours.  I am not going to pander to what a guy wants just because he wants it.  

Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE  MissDAR 

Winners and losers can often be distinguished by their propensity to take action and their inclination to serve others. Winners are those who recognize opportunities and are willing to step out of their comfort zones to seize them. They understand that success requires effort, resilience, and a proactive attitude. Winners don't shy away from challenges; they face them head-on and learn from their experiences. Moreover, winners often find fulfillment in helping others achieve their goals, knowing that service enriches both their lives and the lives of those they assist. In contrast, losers tend to be more passive, often waiting for the perfect moment or fearing the risks associated with action. They may have great ideas and potential but lack the drive to bring them to fruition. This hesitation and inertia often lead to missed opportunities and regret. Additionally, a lack of willingness to serve others can limit their growth and connection with the broader community. Ultimately, the difference between winners and losers lies in the willingness to act decisively, persistently pursue their goals, and contribute positively to the lives of others.