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

  I know i am a good person and i am not a liar or a bullshitter, I find it an insult when someone tries to bullshit me and yet they insist, even swear, its the truth. I have no time for that.   I am a sub but i am a strong woman. Not a doormat in any sense tho i am a softy for those i care about.  I am pretty smart and have been told i am a pleasure to be with. Humor is a part of me, i am respectful, tho i can be a lil sassy now and then.  I do have 3 dogs 2 lil ones and a big one.(sadly, only two now. And my big boy is 11 still good but for how long?)  What i like the most about this lifestyle, is having the freedom to be and feel what i always felt but never let it show, because i believed it was a sign of weakness. Most of the time i do like rough, sexually moreso than physically. Gradual spankings work for me. I am submissive, i do not wish to take or have control, I do like to be able to share my thoughts and or feelings concerning whats going on.

    Public Service Announcement to the “I Want to Serve You, Goddess” Crew: Your Thumbs Are Not Submission  Let me make something crystal clear for the aspiring submissives, servants, and “I’m-ready-to-devote-my-life-to-you” hopefuls who beg for an opportunity to prove themselves who then crash and burn before the engine even starts. If I grant you permission to call me, and your response is to text me, congratulations: you’ve already failed. Let me repeat that slowly for the chronically dense:   Texting. Is. Not. Calling.   You begged to serve. You pleaded for a chance. You wrote paragraphs about how serious you are. I finally say, “Fine. Call me at this time,” and suddenly your phone.. The same phone you’ve been blowing up with 27 back-to-back messages now it mysteriously loses the ability to dial?  Miss me with that nonsense!   Submission Requires Execution, Not Excuses  You don’t impress me with walls of text explaining how loyal and devoted you’ll be. You impress me by following a single instruction without turning it into a personal struggle session.   If you cannot: Press one button to CALL Respect a time window Present yourself with clarity and intention  …then you are not seeking to serve. You’re seeking attention!  I don’t run a charity for grown toddlers!    Submission Is Action. Not Emojis. Not Daydreams. Not Typing Sprees.  You want to text-chat your way to greatness? Go find a Discord Mistress. Or a Telegram Dominant. I deal in real presence, not keyboard fantasies.  And to the ones who send non-stop text threads instead of doing what was asked... You’re not being persistent. You’re being annoying! Uncontrolled desire is not devotion. It’s desperation. And desperation without discipline? Instant disqualification.  The Standard Going Forward  If I say call, you:  1. Confirm.  2. Prepare.  3. Call.  There is no: “But I was nervous.” Nervous dogs still obey commands. “But I didn’t know what to say.” Then ask first, think second, but DO. NOT. TEXT. “But I’m better in writing.” Then you are better off elsewhere! You Want Access? Learn Precision! Servitude is not granted to those who talk the loudest. It is given to those who listen the best. If you can’t execute a basic directive, don’t request a role in my universe. I am not here to mother you, motivate you, or walk you through the concept of a phone call in 2025. Be clear. Be ready. Be real. Or be gone.  

I’m at a point in life where I’m genuinely ready for love and a long-term relationship built on emotional depth, chemistry, and mutual investment. I’m drawn to men who are grounded, emotionally aware, communicative, and naturally attentive to the person they care about. I give deeply when I choose someone (like the Leo I am). And I’m drawn to people who naturally feel inspired to meet that energy, or even exceed it. I notice when someone shows up with care and initiative. I’m not looking for potential or vague curiosity. I’m looking for someone who actively wants to build something real, evolve together, and hopefully explore power-exchange through a FLR.  I created a questionnaire as a doorway into that exploration. You sharing real experiences matter more than theoretically "correct" answers. If you feel intrigued rather than intimidated you’re probably in the right place ❤️ Submit your answers here: https://forms.gle/6Ui8kVrZasXGZmc8A  /Miss Trevligheter

Yes, I have been on this site for a bit. I am looking for the slave that is best to meet My desires. I am looking for long term and live in, when it happens. I do not expect instant match and move. I want any relocation to be permanent and good for both of Us. I hope you have watched the show Big Bang Theory. Living with Me is similar to living with the Sheldon character. At least in the aspect of I get what I want from a slave living with Me. If that isn't you then we will not work well together. I am open to one offs and play dates and such. So feel free to reach out for that also.

The Kink Vending Machine Dec 17, 2017   So, you want to submit. You want to be Topped. You want to find a Dominant Woman to whom to submit, and who will probably Top you.   I get it. I really do. It's just like all other relationships - we need something, and we can only really get it from other people. We want sex. Sexual gratification is possible without other people, but almost everyone agrees that it's not nearly as gratifying as it is WITH someone else. We want love. We can love ourselves, and we can love others, but most of the time, we have a powerful need to receive it from someone else. We want to do… stuff. Sex stuff, relationship stuff, life stuff, and yes, again, some of it can be done by ourselves, but mostly, we want someone to do it with, or to do it TO us. We want a someone. Lots of us want our own special someone, who is OUR someone, and for whom we are THEIR special someone in return. Or at least one of their special someones. And let's face it - sometimes we get lonely. Or we get needy. Or we just really want to do that fucking cool thing RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!!!! And then we can get a little…. fixated. That "someone special" starts to look more and more like "someone who will" and then "anyone who will" and then to just "anyone."   But almost NONE of us want to be "just anyone" to someone else. "I didn't get their name" is the joke we see all over to denote a space filler, a warm body, without memorable characteristics. Not special at all, in other words. Forgettable. Not important enough to bother with as an actual person. Just a means to an end.   Completely interchangeable with any other "anyone" we can get hold of when we need one.   About as special as a vending machine.   You need a coke, you go find a machine, pop in your dollar, soda pops out, and you move on. The machine? You barely noticed it when you were feeding it money. You sure as shit don't value it. And you forget it the second you pop that can.   Not flattering.   Here's the crux of the problem - if you will kneel to anyone who lets you, then when you kneel to me, you aren't kneeling TO ME - you're just kneeling because you like to kneel. It's the same as telling me that I'm no one special, and I could be swapped out with anyone and you'd be fine with that. It makes everything I am … nothing. Meaningless. Worthless.   Well, to you, at least.   All the years I spent working on learning how to communicate in a healthy, assertive, honest and open way… they don't matter. All the work I put into learning what makes a good Dominant? The same. All of the time I took educating myself on what makes a bad Dominant? Who cares? Any skills I built because they would give my submissive a better experience? Nada. All of the things that make me Dominant, or a good lover, or a good partner, hell, that make me a good person? Not worthy of notice.   Everything I am, everything I've made myself, everything I value about myself, has no value to someone like that.   They aren't looking at my profile and thinking "DAMN this person sounds amazing!" They aren't reading my writings and falling a little bit in love with my mind. They aren't seeing what I post about how Dominants and Submissives should treat each other and wishing that could be them.   That person… the one who kneels to anyone and everyone at the drop of a hat? THAT person saw a pretty face, got a woody, (or let's be honest, had a woody before they even logged on and are just looking for something to wank it to) and dropped to their digital knees because that’s what they want out of it all - to feel grovel-ish, to play pretend without admitting that to the other person, to rub one out to their fantasy of a Dominant Woman who would do to them the things that they saw in some porn vid. That person is 100% focused on getting something they want. They don't care where they get it, or even about the quality of what they get. They want what they want, and everything else is irrelevant

She had spent the previous hour obeying his commands, staying in her allocated space, removing clothing when told, displaying herself when ordered, her shoulders ached from being held back to display her breasts, then from being held between two pillars, her thighs ached from being spread as she struggled to hold position. Now all she was wearing was a white G string, wrist and ankle cuffs, which he had used to spread eagle her between two pillars as he applied the flogger, concentrating on her back, bottom, thighs and stomach, but no part of her had escaped its attention. Once again he felt her roughly between her thighs, examining the scrap of material to see how wet she had made it, only eventually announcing she was wet enough. He released her, and immediately clipped her hands together and ordered her to her knees and elbows and to dip her spine, removing the tie sided string he then forced it into her mouth and then positioned himself behind her. His instructions were short and to the point, the first time he would enjoy her from behind, she would receive less stimulation that way so letting her concentrate on using her internal muscles to pleasure him. The crop would serve to remind her if she transgressed. He took a handful of her hair, pulling her head back he slowly entered her, ordering her when to tense her muscles as he also enjoyed the heat from her sore buttocks against his stomach.  He took his time, often she transgressed and paid the price of the crop, until she felt him slowly release.

Hey the journal function is finally fixed!! Time to write a story about one of my (our) experiences: I shut the car door and wave goodbye to my husband, P. He blows me a kiss and pulls away. I wait until he's turned the corner and out of sight until I begin to walk up my master's driveway. It's a short walk, the house set back from the street but my path leads me into the open garage. Once past the threshold, I press the button to shut the garage door behind me. As it trundles on its tracks, I grab my sweater and pull it over my head in one quick motion. I won't need it again this weekend. My shoes, jeans, panties and socks all follow. I savor taking them off and folding them neatly, making the moment last. My backside is still sore from the punishment I received one week earlier. It had been a maid week and I had done an inadequate job with the chores. My master did not let it slide and he wanted to make sure I remember. As I stroked my bruised cheeks, I hoped it would be a kitten week. Something nice and easy, where I could be cherished and all I needed to think about was pleasure. The crate is open and I place my clothes inside. My cell phone follows along with my keys. With a sigh, I shut the crate and padlock it. Master will come and take my phone in due time, better to document my weekend for P's enjoyment and my potential humiliation. But the clothes are gone. Feeling the chill of the garage on my feet, I enter "the servant's entrance" as we jokingly call it.  Three boxes await me in the foyer. Oh shit. This is different. Usually I have no choice in how I spend the weekend. It's always one box, with either the maid's costume, the cat ears, or ... the other. But with three gift wrapped boxes in front of me, it's up to fate.  I can't open one box and change my mind. Not that disobeying master is ever an option. Whichever one I open is my weekend of service.  Can I weigh them? As I reach for the first box, I see a string attached. Nope, he'll know. I have to pick. Eenie. Meanie. Miney. "Ahem." A cleared throat from the other room. I'm in trouble already.  I make my decision and tear the wrapping paper off. Inside the box is ... Nothing. The slut this weekend, then. I walk into the living room, my hands folded in front of me, my eyes down. Master is sitting in his chair, drinking whiskey and reading. There's a pillow in front of him, directly between his feet. Keeping my eyes down, I kneel. He makes me wait, finishing this week's New Yorker. Occasionally my eyes flick up as I weigh my options. I could reach up and begin undoing his belt - the stretch of fabric in his lap tells me he's interested and excited for my weekly visit. I went for a wax earlier in the week and made sure to put my perfume on my skin so he could smell me no matter what I wore. And in my role as the slut, that would be in line with expectations. But I'm so conditioned to serve at command that I stay frozen.  He shakes his glass and I spring up to take it from his hand. I walk to the bar and as I reach for the whiskey, he says "The drawer." I open the top drawer. Inside is my collar, simple and black, a pair of silver handcuffs, and a red ballgag.  "Shall I--?" I start to ask. "Don't ask questions you should know the answer to," he says with disinterest.  OK then. I put the glass down and pick up the gag. I push it between my teeth and secure the belt behind my head. Next, the handcuffs. Does he want them in front or behind? I wish I could ask. The maid gets handcuffed in the front, so she can work. The slut, behind, so she has no control. So I slip the cuffs on behind my back, hearing the satisfied clink. But in my haste, I forgot the collar! It takes me several tries, standing on my tippy toes, mmphing with effort, to pick the collar up with my cuffed hands behind me. I trot to master happily. He finally looks at me. "My drink?" He asks. Damn it. What to do? I blink at him, fluttering my eyelashes. Push one foot in front of me and circle it back and forth on his loafer. Don't blame, I don't know any better? He takes the collar from me and cls it around my neck. Seizing my throat suddenly, he pulls me in close. "A slut does not mean you're stupid," he whispers in my ear.  One of our agreements when I first began serving him is that he'd never call me a bitch. A slut is something a person chooses to be. It's a sigh of power, both mine and his. I feel my body warm at his words and I lean down to rub my gagged mouth against his neck. He indulges me for a moment and then grabs a fistful of my hair. It's been a little while but I remember how slut weekends go. I'll be confined to the bedroom, chained to the bed most of the time. He'll film my submission and send it back to P. There's an entire box of toys for me to (mostly) enjoy, though the word "no" is gone from my vocabulary until Sunday night. My rest will be dependent on how often master wants me and how he wants me.  It will be a long, fun weekend.

Feeling Grateful!  A few days ago I was in a major accident, hitting a deer while I as going 75mph down a highway.  I saw one deer cause another car to swerve and that deer made its way without incident, but I knew that meant there could be more.  Before I knew it, there was a deer immediately in front of me and there was nothing to do but allow the inevitable.  The sound was awful, the hood flew up and I got the car to the side of the road without further incident.  Not quite 48 hours has passed yet, and I am grateful no injuries have surfaced beyond very minor bruises.   The next day, I learned from the wrecker driver what normally results from similar crashes.  That choked me up and caused tears to start to flow.  Yes, my car, which was not going to last much longer anyway, is done, but I am fine.  I consider Myself lucky, blessed and My response is gratitude.   I know, not a "site" topic, but I am sharing it anyway.  

It is important to know that while I am seeking, finding and sharing, My time is not My own and I can and will only continue to engage those who understand and accept these circumstances for what they are - limited. I am a full time caregiver.  Not part time, not some time, not the times I choose.  I have minimal pockets of time, not of My own, when I am able to engage those who wish to be a part of My family and household and life.  Once you are here and serving, we are full time engaging and living these moments together. It's tough.  I get it - BELIEVE Me.  However it does not change that your position is to make yourself available to Me at MY times of availability.  This will not be a hurried process, nor will it be slow, but I am not free to just get up and do the hokey pokey any ole time! If you wish to be considered, at least have the ability share when I am available and understand that when My charge is unwell, everything goes full stop for about two weeks while I nurse and care for MYSELF and My charge. Just a little information for those who have no clue about Alzheimer's I've included some information below. -Any trauma to the head:  1. letter from the IRS or arguement, 2. head cold, COVID, headache, 3. head hit on the corner of the t.v., fall off a bar stool, slip on ice - these are all significant, affect the head, and depending on the intensity and duration of the impact, determines how long it will take to recover. https://www.alz.org/help-support/resources/care-education-resources For those who care, Mum had covid and is doing much better.  It will be another week or so for full recovery - and yes, I am relatively okay, considering. A grateful thank you to those men who continue to display great character and worth to Me and in turn, to Mum.  There is one who continues to provide strength on the most darkest of days. 

I'm English. Where the language comes from. Dominant is an adjective. It describes a thing. As in, "The dominant person." It commonly gets shorted into noun form, as a thing unto itself. As in, "The dominant slapped some knowledge into the illiterate." To dominate is a verb. It's a doing word. You use it like, "He dominated the test." "She dominated the opposition." "The dominant dominated the submissive." When you find yourself writing the words, "I am a dominate," what you are actually saying is, "I am an illiterate twat who doesn't know the difference between a verb and an adjective or noun. Now please ignore that I can't apply enough thinking to use the language without hurting myself and please trust me with your safety instead." Should you find yourself writing, "I am seeking my ideal dominate," what you are really saying is, "I am not seeking a literate disciplinarian as they would be forced to beat me until all of their toys broke." As an Englishman, it goes without saying that the above is presented with hyperbolic sarcasm. But if we're struggling with nouns vs verbs, trying to explain sarcasm is unlikely to go well.

3/21/26  Happy Spring........................ I have been reflecting lately on the people I have met within this community. I deeply respect the honesty this lifestyle can bring when it is genuine, but with time comes the clarity to recognize the difference between surface-level energy and meaningful connection.   For me, this has never been solely about the physical. It is about presence, trust, and an energy that transcends the moment. When you truly understand your desires, you stop trying to fit where you do not belong and stop reshaping yourself for acceptance. Once you experience an authentic connection where you can show up fully, you realize you can no longer settle for anything less.   I am grateful for the experiences and the people who have shaped my perspective. I feel more grounded now in what I will and will not accept moving forward. Real connection is rare, and I have decided to no longer entertain anything that doesn't meet that standard.   For a long time, I was simply pushing forward, always waiting for "someday." Lately, however, I have been sitting with a different truth. While I do not have a perfect life, I am envisioning a version of life that is perfect for me. We all have things that need to be healed or figured out, and many of us feel like we don't quite fit the ordinary mold. We think differently and require different ways of being seen—yearning for the specific types of love and service that only those within this community truly understand.   There is something honest about that realization. It is about recognizing that even in the middle of life's messy moments, there are still people worth meeting and experiences worth having. You don't have to be perfect to find what is perfect for you. Take the risk of being volunerable, take the risk of being seen or even hurt..... We have less years in front of us then we do behind us.. Risk the chance before you regret it.. Hugs, bumps and grinds my naughty kinsters........ xox

  What is meant by online friends? An internet relationship is a relationship between people who have met online, and in many cases know each other only via the Internet. Online relationships are similar in many ways to pen pal relationships.    

Thank you for reading And thank you for your time I promise not to waste yours I tend to value mine Poetry’s enticing Prose can add a spark Pretty sets of words betray what's in their author’s heart Art is also obfuscated fleeting and opaque Maybe not the ideal way to tell of what I'm made Doubtless you'll have questions those who enjoy this jest Feel free to message me and get them off your chest Keep in mind that I don't know you and that you don't yet own me We owe one another mutual courtesy  

My car died.  It died the same day I closed on my new house/dungeon pair.  The cobblestones of my new town ate the last reserves that the power steering pump had.  I got back to the rental, 50 miles East with a ride from a friend.  I sat there for 2 weeks, trying to put together enough crap to move in.  Borrowed a truck from a friend in the local-to-my-rental, got one load made with the washer/dryer stack, got them into the new place, not installed. got back, didn't get another load for another week, on borrowed trailer, called my soon-so-be-exlandlady, who pulled the trailer, got me over with half my stuff. two weeks later, we got a 3rd load, so I am mostly moved in.   I then started in on settling down, straightening up the debris.  The dungeon will need lots of work, plenty of cash, which I have none of.  Stay tuned!

June 26, 2022  Long over due UPDATE My profile definitely needs updating.  My understanding is it takes months to have edits to your profile approved so I thought I would update it here. = I am 59 years old, not 55.   I am having a big bash when I hit the big 6-0h in Feb.   I practice a poly lifestyle.  If you think "Sister Wives" (on TLC) is poly, if you think poly is just a group of people who just indiscriminatntly fuck each other, you and your preconcieved notions are not a good match. I find myself more and more attractied to substantive men, with more than a cock and "the best" insert sexual act here to offer.  If you have an open mind, and/or have experience with poly, lets discus what might work for us. Relationsihp anarchy - we determine what our relationship looks like.  It is ours to define. Enjoy the journey!

UPDATE 2/7/22: I am looking for somene to do what amounts to several hours of part-time, light grunt work alongside me as I complete tasks... It will be mostly moving things from point A to point B, up or down stairs, with frequent instances of waiting on me to do my part. I've been having thumb & wrist problems and can't do much in the way of grabbing things to move them myself. I have a lot to do, but it's pretty easy, and except for trips to the trash and recycling bins, will be indoors. I'm need someone that does the work without questioning my decisions, so someone in a submissive or slave mindset is preferable. We can chat, of course... I'm not going to discuss the "why" of what I'm working on, though. :) If you're vaccinated and in the Denver area, send me a message and let's negotiate something that's mutually beneficial!

Sally’s PCThe phone rang, I answered.A lady's voice on the other end. Her name was Sally. (Not her real name).Sally said she desperately needed help with her computer, which booted okay but could not use to due to some viruses popping up when using any of the browsers.We made visiting arrangements. It was early afternoon when I parked my car and knocked on her door.Sally was about 5’2” tall, slightly plump, with lovely green eyes and very long dark hair almost reaching her waistline. She was in her mid-forties.She leads me to the computer. After booting the PC with my own recovery (Linux) disk, I managed to recover all her data and photos onto another disk within a few hours.Whilst checking her system, I noticed that Sally had visited lots of dodgy sites. I asked Sally if she had any of the original disks. I said we may not need them but just in case I needed to do a full recovery.She said they are in the box above the cupboard. She went out of the room to fetch the step ladder. I realised that I may be able to reach the box without the ladder. As I pulled the box over, an original Scottish leather tawse fell into my hands. I put the dusty box on the floor whilst the leather tawse was still in my hands. Sally walked into the room with the step ladder and saw the tawse in my hand and rushed over to retrieve it. I quickly raised the tawse above my head and out of her reach. I noticed she looked rather embarrassed and was blushing. Sally was quite a bit shorter than me so was not able to take it off my hand. I said, “ah ah, not so fast”.I took a few steps backwards and brushed off the dust from the leather tawse and examined it. I flicked it in the air a few times to see how it felt and see if the leather was still in good condition. I said, "It looks like this has not been used for sometime now".She said, "No, it hasn’t, now give it back to me, it is private".I said, "Well, it fell from the top of the box and the reason your PC came to a halt is directly related to the websites you visited and having seen the photos you have download, I am sure the falling of the strap into my hands was a message that must not be ignored."She said, "you must be joking!" I said, "No, it is for your own benefit, so why don't you bend over that table. I promise you will feel much better afterwards”.She said, "No way, I am doing no such thing"I said, "Well, in that case, I will have to place you across my knees and spank your bottom by hand before using the strap!"This went on for some fifteen minutes before she agreed to be disciplined but refused to remove any of her clothing. So she went over to the table and leaned over until her arms and head were resting on the table. I administered three mild strokes with the leather strap, taking my time. Her bottom twitched. I could feel that I had to take it easy as she had not been disciplined for a long time. I could also sense that she was quite enjoying this episode. I said to her that discipline had to be carried out on the bare bottom. With that, I quickly raised her skirt and pulled her knickers down. She started getting up and resisted, saying, no no stop that, that is not fair. I said, "Stop resisting, you know it is for your own good. You also know that discipline has to be on the bare bottom! If you don't take your hand off and stay still, I am going to give you 30 with this leather strap!" She calmed down and placed her hands by the side of her head on the table. She had a lovely bottom. It was easy to tell that it had not been spanked in a very long time. I administered six with the leather strap on her large round bare bottom, taking my time between each stroke and making sure it landed nicely where it should. With each stroke, her bottom got marked with a red stripe. After the six strokes, her bottom was glowing red with strap marks. I checked her bottom to make sure it was all fine and that she was okay. She stood up and I could see she had tears in her eyes. I said she had been very good. She dashed upstairs without saying a word. I carried on sorting out the PC. Sally was upstairs for some forty minutes, I guess to reflect on what just happened and recompose herself. She came back downstairs looking very cheerful and happy. I stood up as she walked into the room and she came straight over and hugged me tightly. She said, “Thank You”. I had almost completed the work on the PC. She offered me a coffee and we sat on her sofa having a lovely chat about all sorts of things. It felt like some weight had been lifted off from her shoulders and she felt happy in her inner self. Two weeks later, I received a call from Sally, asking me if I could be her mentor and administer discipline when I felt it was necessary. There were a few areas she wanted help with as she got out of line and off-track quite quickly. I visited her on regular basis for three years, we drew up an improvement plan in areas such as tidiness, de-cluttering, weight loss and impulse buying. Discipline was administered twice a month on her bare bottom using the original Scottish leather Lochgelly tawse, was 11mm thick, 5.5cm wide and 45cm long (7/16” x 2” x 18" ) . I always carried out the warmup first by hand. She responded very well to the program and became very obedient. She even thanked me sometimes after the discipline had been administered.

You know what I’ve noticed? A lot of you want to be owned—but none of you want to earn it. You slide into my inbox like you’ve already been claimed, like we’ve built something, like I even know your favorite color or what your voice sounds like when you’re trying not to moan. Spoiler: I don’t. It’s always the same—some lazy “hey gorgeous,” followed by a picture of your dick like it’s a résumé. You call it confidence; I call it laziness with bad lighting. You don’t build devotion through shock value. You build it through discipline, consistency, and showing up without needing to be begged for it. You want intimacy? You want that mind-melting, breath-stealing connection you fantasize about when your hand’s between your legs? Then stop treating Me like a vending machine for your kinks. You don’t insert your fetish and press D for Domme—that’s not how this works. You think you’re ready to be used, but you can’t even send a respectful message. You think I’ll give you access to My energy just because you find Me attractive? Cute. You’re aroused—and that’s supposed to be My problem? Flattery doesn’t earn you obedience. Desire doesn’t earn you access. And your dick definitely doesn’t earn you attention. You say you crave to serve, to please, to surrender—but you don’t understand that real submission requires something from you. Time. Effort. Patience. . Always sacrifice. You want to be worship? Earn the privilege. You want Me to care what you crave? Show Me why I should. Otherwise, you’re just another noise in the crowd—nameless, forgettable, replaceable. Because when you finally understand how to build intimacy, that’s when the real reward comes. That’s when a Domme looks at you and thinks, “Yes. He’s worth My time.” That’s when your devotion becomes currency—and it starts buying you experiences no instant message ever will.   Until then, keep your dick pics, your “hey sexy,” and your entitled fantasies. You haven’t earned the 

Hello to all of you who actually take the time to read my profile. Please, IF you contact me, don't just send me a one liner; I will not respond. Send me a real introduction to you as a person, not just you as a sub. ! I will not try to vet you through this site. Please be prepared to text! I have signal and telegram. Also, be prepared to send me real world pictures, you gardening, you going on a walk, etc. , be prepared to voice verify and video chat verify within a few days. You must also be prepared to travel to Parkersburg WV for a public, vanilla, in person first meeting.  I will discuss fetishes, interests, desires before we meet because this is a sex based relationship; however, I will NOT dominant, sext, role play, cam or DO anything sexual to you virtually until AFTER we have met in person and you become my sub! You ask, you will be blocked! If you want pics, go to my fetlife. I have over 120 posted and I post new pics regularly. A real sub will not hesitate to follow my requests and tbh, I'm not interested in you if you're not prepared to show me you in fact are real, committed and will show up, day after day, and not just when you're horny.

Finish her!   The whipping scene has gone on for 40 minutes.  My whipped body now hangs in my chains as the whipping stops.  I can see through the slits in the mask the looks of shock and surprise in the faces of the crowd watching my torture.  I can see the faces of some of my friends smiling at me.  They know what’s about to happen. My loin cloth is removed which shows the neon red string bikini I was wearing underneath it.  It glows like a hot coal in the black light.  My torturer comes in close and runs her hands over my whipped body and the raised welts on my stomach and thighs.  She goes over to the chain and starts pulling it.  It’s at this point the people watching think that I’m being lowered but I’m not.  I’m being tightened. I’m being suspended higher now and the ankle chains are getting tighter.  The room is silent as I’m now being torture stretched.  My ribs are clearly visible now and my belly gets pulled flat.  I’m moaning loudly now as my pain level has now reached a ten.  It’s now very difficult to breathe and I’m suffering.  I’m struggling with the last safety ball in my hand as I try to dangle it out of fingers in order to drop it, a clear signal to my torturer that I’m finished.  I can see the look of horror in some of the faces of the people watching my torment. I manage to drop the ball and I’m lowered to the floor, exhausted.  The scene ends with a passionate kiss from my torturer and I limply stand there still in chains.   My mask is removed and I’m led to a nearby bondage table to recover.  I’m surrounded by friends and a few attendees as they ask how I am and if I’m alright. A few want to see my welts.  I guess it’s too see if the welts real.  They are.  I’m showered with compliments and it makes me feel fantastic.  I’m going to remember this night for a long time.  

Some vanilla history: I had given up on dating in the lifestyle after the end of a 7-year D/s relationship back in 2022. In 2023, I met My ex bf on a vanilla dating app and he said that he initially thought I was a catfish. He had been messaging with Me "casually" for a few weeks and when it started to feel like it just wasn't going anywhere, I attempted to end communication. Apparently, that piqued his interest and he planned an actual date. When I stepped out of My car, it took him a few minutes to compose himself. He seriously was expecting someone else I guess and didn't know what to do when it wasn't. I was thoroughly entertained by the whole thing and honestly couldn't stop laughing at the situation. I gave him a one arm hug and he was shaking! It was adorable. And of course, over the 18 months or so that we dated, I loved telling his friends that story and how he almost blew it being so nonchalant in the beginning.

WARNING:  POLITICAL RACIST SEXIST DEFAMATORY PROFANE STATEMENTS FOLLOW!   Keep OUR laws off of MY body. Or be prepared for US to start making laws for YOUR body. The only reason why it is not the law of this land that a woman may do with her body as she sees fit, is because MEN do not stand up for our rights as WOMEN.  Don’t play games with Me and tell Me you are all about respect for women and women’s rights and you LOVE AND WORSHIP women and then tell us we don’t have what if farking takes to govern our own bodies!  Bloody hypocrites! Don’t tell Me it is the politicians, women, men, or any other such thing which makes the law so.  It is because of YOU and your primitive mind set and ideologies which remove My Sovereignty over My body.  I’m an independent.  I am prolife and prochoice, when it makes sense and does not infringe on another free person’s rights.  You don’t get to choose what is right for My body.  You and the law HAVE NO BUSINESS IN OR ON MY CUNT!  God gave this Power to women.  We are made for it and with this God gave us the ability to deal with this Power – without Men.  Just like Men are given their own Power and the tools to appropriately deal with it. Now, if you continue to come after My body and My rights, be prepared for Me to come after you and your body parts. Any sexual or domestic offense committed by a male against a female, automatic SNIP SNIP!  You don’t want Me playing around with your cock and balls without consent?  Then STAY OFF OF MY DICK! Men competing in Olympics, or women’s sports.  This is a no brainer people.  We are a tad more civilized than legalizing and celebration of the beating of women.  Come on!

I really do need to find a man to take me in for retraining. Since my last LTR ended I have been unable to find anybody of the calibre needed to properly dominate me. And properly dominated I need to be. If you are the sort of man who would grab me by my blonde hair and unceremoniously put me over your knees, push my skirt up off my bum, pull my panties down as I squealed and kicked around and give me a thrashing for nothing more than pouting my disapproval at you when you told me to do something. If you are the sort of man who is comfortable enough in your ownership of me to publically humiliate me and/or lend me out to one of your mates occasionally. If you are the sort of man who would keep a variety of implements in the wardrobe solely to punish me with and used them on me regularly whether I misbehaved or not just to keep me in my place and because you enjoyed doing it. If you are the sort of man who would make sure that I always had fresh welts and whip marks on me to demonstrate your complete ownership and domination of me. If you are the sort of man who would lock me in the garage, shed or spare room for hours on end to give me plenty of time to reflect on my shortcomings before coming in to administer a good thrashing to me. If you are the sort of man who would take great pleasure in seeing me hog tied and gagged, struggling on the floor. If you are the sort of man who would give me a good slap across the side of my face hard enough to send me sprawling if I back chatted you. If you are the sort of man who would expect a girl to know her place, do all your housework, do it to your expectations and do it with a smile on her face or else. If you are the sort of man who, while watching the footy on TV and I was doing a big pile of ironing in the laundry, would shout out to me for a beer and expect me to immediately fetch it from the fridge, open it and put it into a beer cooler before hurrying to hand it to you with a smile on my face. If you are the sort of man who would not allow me to leave the house or do anything without your permission and who dictates to me what I should be wearing. If you are the sort of man who would take great pleasure from watching me squirm and squeal on the floor as your belt leaves bright red welts on my bum, thighs and back. If you are the sort of man whom I would be a little bit frightened of. If you are the sort of man who expaspects me to be dressed like a girl should be dressed to please a man, in miniskirts, short dresses, sexy panties, heels and stockings. If you are the sort of man who would occasionally reward me by treating me like a lady even though we both know that I’m nothing but your slut. If you are the sort of man who is intelligent, articulate, financially stable and is prepared to put in the work on me to give me the life that I deserve. If you are even some of those things you are a real man and a rare man. Where are you? I NEED YOU!

Results from bdsmtest.org == 7/19/202298% Submissive90% Masochist88% Voyeur86% Rope bunny75% Exhibitionist74% Pet74% Experimentalist60% Vanilla

How hard is it to actually read a profile before messaging someone? I mean really, it's not that difficult to do, either that or people just don't care. Seeing the messages I get it seems both. You want fuckmeat, move on I'm not it. I'm also sure as hell am not sharing my picture with anyone until I feel comfortable with you. I will also say again that this is the fastest way for me to ignore your messages and/or block you:  1. Clearly not reading my profile, I'll know if you are not from or around the location I stated, being right out disrespectful and thinking I'll actually want your "guidance" or be your "toy" when you couldn't take the time to look at my interest list or my limits which are all up to date.  2. Sending me pictures without asking me, this includes any kind of picture. If I want to see what you look like I will ask. Same with sending me a phone number or any other type of social media ID, if I want it I'll ask. 3. If you can't open a conversation with more than "Hi, how are you?" or just "Hi." Then I'm not interested, I like substance and if you can send a good opening message then I'll be more likely to wanna talk to you don't bother with anything half assed it just won't work.  4. You're profile and/or interest list is blank. I could understand if your proifle is brand new but if you've been on this site for more than a month I think you've had plenty of time to write and add in your interests. That helps me guage what kind of person you are. 

A submissive is one who chooses each and every time if he /she will submit.  A submissive often comes with a list of his / her restrictions and requirements.  While a true slave is one who comes to serve in the manner in which the Mistress desires. A true slave makes the decision to submit one time for always.  A true slave may have desires, dreams,  and  fantasies but he / she is not selfish and he / she relinquish their selfishness to serve the Dominant.   It takes a very strong person to live the life of being a slave to another.  To observe a slave growing and one day to see him /her become the perfected specimen  in which the Domme  has created is the goal. The submission of a slave is very admirable.  I seek that slave! The one who will serve Me always, under My safe keeping, and owned  by Me.   

Subtle Tease of The Day This one is simple. It requires no toys or even touching. You don't even need privacy. Every hour (or a feasible but consistent interval) complete this sentence: "I get aroused when I think of ... and I get wet when I imagine..." That's it. Take a moment or two to fantasize. You don't have to share your thoughts. They are welcome

Not sure what it is with Sundays but  jeez   lol A lot of you shoot yourself in the foot on the first email.  You know what they say about first impressions.   lol Just cause you send me a message does NOT make you under consideration. I have people contacting me for different reasons so I don't assume why people are contacting me, thus is one reason I put that in my profile on what to send me if you are wanting consideration. Also, just because you want consideration doesn't mean I'm interested If you can not approach me with a "hello" before you start rattling off what YOU want, then we are not a match On that note if you approach me rattling off what YOU want and how I might be "good enough" for you we are not a match If you can't follow the instructions within my profie, then we are not a match If you don't realize that "I" get to choose who I pick and it's not all about what you want, then we are not a match If you think the dominants on here and are all the same and only here to serve you like we are some prostitutes that take clients, then we are not a match If you don't agree with what I am looking for and the way I want to achieve it, that's fine, no hard feelings move on the the next profile.  But don't waste your time or mine trying to manipulate me into your perfect, whatever Have a good Sunday

 I suppose I need to update this along with my profile. As I said in my new profile, I am currently living in Virginia and owned as part of a household so I’m no longer looking. I only come here occasionally to chat with a few people I’ve come to know. A lot changed for me at the end of last year when I moved here. This is only the second ownership situation I’ve ever been in. I have a scattered history with the couple who now own me so they aren’t a complete unknown but much of what is expected of me is very new. I am their new alpha and expected to manage the general household as well as some aspects of others that are brought in, either short term or long term. Their prior long-term slave left the household last month and they have taken on a new one, at least on a trial basis. I’m not sure if she’ll last but the mistress has faith in her becoming a permanent part of the household so time will tell I guess. For those who were curious about my tech gig work, I took a couple months off and I’m starting some new work next month. It’ll be tricky balancing that with my household duties so I’m not putting much on my plate at first. On the plus side, since I don’t have any expenses here, all of what I take in can go toward investing my future. I guess that’ll be yet another new situation for me.. lol        

When it comes to phallic worship I am the altar and the sacrament. I begin by washing thoroughly and I cover my body around my phallus leaving the phallus and the testicles exposed after the person who is to worship bathes, perfumes his body and   approaches slowly with the sight on the vision I am offering him. He kneels, and anoints the phallus with honey, almond oils, sweet oil, (all edible) and prays. No touching at this moment just gazing. Slowly he extends the offerings to the testicle, the reservoir of universal power and caress them requesting permission to approach the phallus. At this moment there is no touching, kissing or tasting the phallus, just caressing and enjoying the testicles as the source of power. Eventually I allow him to caress the phallus and anoint it thoroughly but not to masturbate. This phase is a phase of discovery and joy. Since I am uncut this is the time to begin retracting the skin to reveal the glans and to taste whatever comes from it. This process will take time and no sexual play is allow, its prayer time. The session can end there and after a while it while after washing the phallus and anointing it with oils and essences the worshipper is allow to commune with the phallus orally. If the ministrations are right and he deserves, I will allow the climax for both of us. If not he must come back until he is worthy of the nectar that creates the universe. Now I have my own rituals to initiate those who worship before allowing them to approach the altar and the sacrament.

  This submissive’s Creed:   Respect Your time   Match Your efforts and requirements    Keep my word   Always be honest   Stay committed and consistent regardless 

Master's WritingsFoundations: Deep Honesty and the Butterfly EffectAs I see it, there are three core elements, communication, trust and honesty, that together form the foundation for feeling safe as we explore the lifestyle. Each element is interdependent with the others, and intertwined in such a way that to fail any one breaks them all, leaving us unsure and at risk, while when they all work right, we feel able to explore the greatest depths imaginable.With regard to honesty, we, in the lifestyle, are far better equipped to get it right than anywhere within the vanilla world. Power dynamics, the emotional nakedness of play and the acceptance of near infinite diversity among our interests and population make total honesty far more achievable within the lifestyle than others then you might think.Yet honesty can suffers from the crushing weight of a single butterflies wing. As children, we learn to lie because we get away and it always starts with the smallest of lies or the things we hide from those we love. As we grow, we believe that lying is acceptable with those we love and in society in general. This acceptance allows us to learn to lie even to ourselves, and as we mature, we discover that we have grown comfortable being false to others and even to ourself. We no longer know what is authentic and the distance between those close to us grows and decays. And we wonder why. In fact, as a society, we have entered an age where falsehood and lying is now the norm and an accepted practice.In a dynamic where “Total Honesty” is practiced, lies are never allowed, not in part nor in full, not even lies of omission or hidden truths of any kind. Sharing is always total, free and open. The freedom of an open mind and heart is the only acceptable mindset. While nearly all in the lifestyle preach this in one form or another, we must be aware of the impact of that single small butterfly wing. For just like the child growing up, a single allowance of a hidden feeling, an uncomfortable truth left unspoken, or a fear not communicated, has the potential to become habit forming and thereafter impact and erode the beauty and depth of a dynamic. A hidden feeling can undermine the understanding one partner has for the other. An uncomfortable truth can lead to the birth of resentment and anger when not spoken where it is allowed to fester. A fear left unchecked causes stress, clouds the mind, undercut trust, causes stagnation and allows anxieties to run unchecked or worse.Within a dynamic, the expectation and practice must be to understand the impact, the cause and effect, of that single delicate wing of the smallest of lies and/or omissions, remaining fully open to each other, totally authentic of self, and emotionally naked before your partner. For it is only within a dynamic filled with such honesty that we make possible the deep, beautiful and magical experiences we all seek.

There are some really disrespectful retards on here. They have several Journal entries complaining about this or that premise they claim not to like, but when you contact them, they behave exactly like their own Journal entry complains about. Is it really too much effort when someone clearly has taken the time to write to you, to answer it with a Not Interested reply if they don't interest you? Is 2 clicks (reply - send message) followed by 12 measley letters and a space (Not Interested) too much effort for your brain? You normally complain about the manners of whoever (its not entirely Doms or sub specific, I know both groups have extremely boneidle members on these kind of sites). I appreciate that some of you are looking for a specific niche, a specific thing, a set of requirements essential to your happiness, but grow the fuck up, this lifestyle is generally ruled by one concept, Compromise, because you will unlikely in 99 in 100 contacts get every T crossed and every I dotted to your expectations Your arrogance allows you to bypass someone genuine whom might be able to compromise in return and give you most of those little quirks, if not all, you seek to get your perfect BDSM partner.... but no you choose to ignore them and let them pass you by, because you seek perfection from the start?

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. Former US Army Chiefs of Staff chairman Mark Milley 4 Star General https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2024/10/12/mark-milley-donald-trump-fascist/ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFVuQ0RP_As https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9to_1UYH5rE https://www.c-span.org/video/?539560-1/joint-chiefs-staff-chair-mark-milley-discusses-us-national-security    

**Journal Entry for jloveslut:**   I’ve been reflecting a lot on the journey of self-discovery and exploration that led me here, to a place where I can openly embrace my authentic self. My experiences as a switch, and my desire to connect with others who understand the nuances of my gender identity and orientation, have been pivotal in shaping who I am today.   In the realm of BDSM and kink, finding a community where I can express both my dominant and submissive sides has been incredibly empowering. It’s a space where I can explore, learn, and grow without judgment. I’m continually learning about what it means to be part of a community that values consent, respect, and communication above all else. These elements are at the core of the connections I’m seeking, and I appreciate how spaces like this offer that opportunity.   I’m looking forward to meeting others who share similar values and interests. Whether it’s engaging in conversations about lifestyle choices, exploring new dynamics, or just making friends who understand this part of my life, I am excited for the possibilities that lie ahead. Here’s to continuing the journey of exploration, growth, and meaningful connections.   Thank you for reading, and feel free to reach out if any of this resonates with you.   — J

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.

November 2, 2025 - Soccer Coach came by for a visit after a game     SUPER SHORT STORY this time...     Coach came by for a visit tonight.   Oh my God, it was quick but fun. He was only here for about 40 minutes. He wanted water sports, both drinking my piss and pissing on him. So throughtout the afternoon, I drank plenty of water and a beer. Drinking lots of water and especially a beer helps clear my bladder so it's clear piss with no scent. And I drank tons of water.   I was expecting him at 9:00pm and had been drinking water extra heavily for the past hour. At 8:45, I thought my bladder was going to explode.   He messaged and said that he was about 10 minutes away and I said "that's good because my bladder is going to explode. When you get here get naked and we're getting in the shower for piss play first thing. Be prepared for a lot of piss." And that's exactly what happened.   He's a soccer coach and had warned me that he had four games today, and that he was coming directly from his last game. He warned me that he was not going to be freshly showered like normal. That's why I said we'd start in the shower. First for piss play, then so he could clean up from his day of strenious activity.   When he arrived, I was wearing nothing but a bathrobe. He immediately stripped his clothing off and with very little chit chat, we headed for the bathroom. We got in the shower, he dropped to his knees, took my cock in his mouth. I relaxed and my bladder started to empty into his mouth. I pissed and pissed and pissed some more. And then I pissed even more. I can't believe how much piss my bladder had been holding. I could hear him swallowing, Gulp, Gulp, Gulp, Gulp. I fucking flooded my mouth with my hot piss.   He was catching and swallowing most of it with very little escaping from his lips. Finally I said, "you don't have to drink every drop." He pulled his head back a bit and my cock out popped out of his mouth and my piss sprayed all over him. Like holding a garden hose he directed the stream of piss all over his face, and then through his hair. Eventually I stopped pissing, but only to start again a moment or two later. Eventually I completely drained my bladder.     I rinsed off and then left him in the shower telling him a fresh towel would be hanging on the doorknob. When he got out of the bathroom, we went upstairs, I didn't even tie him to the bed like I had planned. I just told him to lay on his back in the bed and I climbed up on top of his chest with a knee in each of his armpits. I leaned forward putting my semi limp cock to his lips. He sucked my cock into his mouth and started sucking on it. I actually thought I might be able to piss a bit more, but we were in the bed that I sleep in, so I didn't want to risk it. After a moment or two of sucking, my cock started getting hard, so I started to throat fucked the hell out of him.   A few times he would gag when my cock hit that magic spot in the back of his throat. At other times he would stick his tongue out and lick my balls while my cock was still in his mouth. I barked a few commands to "suck daddy's cock." After unloading all that piss, and since I had been playing with myself and watching porn before he arrived, I was getting too excited, too quickly. It didn't take long until I dropped my load into his mouth. I pulled almost completely out of his mouth so I squirted my spunk onto his tongue, and then I heard him gulp like he was doing with my piss in the shower.   Then he continued to suck getting every last drop out.   It was a quick visit, but it was absolutely wonderful. I don't think I've pissed in anyone's mouth for almost a year, and although I thought my bladder felt like it was going to burst for a few minutes before his arrival, when I finally got to empty my bladder into his mouthand stomach, it was fantastic. It's been way too long since he's been here for a visit, which is my mistake because of my busy schedule. But I can guarantee, it's not going to be that long before I see him again.   Definitely had a great time.   Read more stories at https://www.SirKel.top    

The Weight of Three Minutes: Continued I do not move quickly. I have never needed to. I circle him the way I circled him earlier, when the tea was still cooling on the obsidian table and the correction had not yet taken its shape. He tracks me without turning his head, feeling my presence move around him the way you feel a change in light, knowing without seeing. This too I have built in him. This particular sensitivity to where I am in a room, to the quality of my attention when it lands on him, to the difference between my stillness that is simply stillness and my stillness that is preparation. I stop behind him. I let the silence hold for a moment, long enough to feel it settle into his shoulders, into the careful architecture of his maintained posture. His breathing is controlled. He is working for that control and I can hear the effort underneath it, the slight and deliberate evenness of someone who has decided composure is the one thing left available to him and is holding it with both hands. "You ruined my moment of peace," I told him, and I made sure he heard every word, felt the shape of my disappointment. "So now, you will provide the entertainment." I released his chin and sat back, beginning to unbutton my blouse with deliberate, unhurried movements. The pearl buttons slipped free one by one, the fabric parting to reveal what I wore beneath - sheer black lace that left nothing truly hidden, everything offered and yet withheld at my discretion. I shrugged the blouse from my shoulders and let it fall behind me, uncaring where it landed. "Expose them," I ordered, and I watched the conflict play across his features. The desire to touch warring with the knowledge that he had not been granted permission, only command. His hands rose, trembling slightly as they found the edges of my bra. He pushed the lace down with careful, reverent movements, revealing my breasts to the cool air of the room. I felt the immediate response of my nipples tightening, the subtle shift in my own arousal at being displayed, at being seen so completely while he remained bound by my rules. I leaned back slightly, presenting myself to him with deliberate cruelty, close enough that he could smell my perfume, feel the warmth radiating from my skin, see every detail of my arousal. But not close enough to touch. Not without permission he had not yet earned. "Warm them," I instructed, my voice dropping to something softer, more dangerous. "With your breath. Only your breath. Hands behind your back." He obeyed with the desperate precision of someone who knew the cost of failure. His hands found each other behind him, clasping tight as though the restraint were physical rather than commanded. He leaned forward, close enough now that I could feel the ghost of his exhalation against my skin, the careful warmth of each controlled breath directed across my nipples. I watched him struggle, the way his jaw tightened with the effort of restraint, the way his eyes kept darting between my face and my breasts, searching for any sign that he might be permitted more. His arousal was unmistakable now, visible in the strain of his posture, the hunger in his gaze that he could not fully disguise. I let him continue until I could feel my own wetness gathering, until the tease had sharpened into something that required resolution. Then I shifted forward abruptly, closing the distance he had been forbidden to cross, pressing my breast against his parted lips with deliberate force. He made a sound, something between surprise and desperate relief, but I denied him even this small satisfaction. I held him there, my nipple resting against his closed lips, using his mouth as nothing more than a cushion, a warm surface for my own pleasure. He tried to part his lips, to taste, to suck, and I pulled back just enough to deny him, then pressed forward again with the same cruel restraint. "You made the tea too strong," I reminded him, my voice steady despite the arousal coiling tighter in my belly. "So you can be my cup holder. Nothing more." I shifted my grip to the back of his head, my fingers threading through his hair with controlled pressure, and pulled his face forward into the valley of my breasts. I held him there, my skin pressed against his mouth and nose, feeling the desperate rhythm of his breath hot and trapped against my cleavage. He struggled slightly, instinctive panic at the restriction, the need to breathe and I tightened my grip just enough to remind him that even this was at my discretion. "Stay," I commanded, and felt him still, surrendering to the constriction, accepting that his comfort was irrelevant to my pleasure. I held him there longer than necessary, feeling the subtle shifts in his body, the tension in his shoulders, the controlled shallowness of his breaths, the desperate patience of someone who knew that any complaint would only extend his punishment. The power of it thrilled through me, sharpening my arousal to something almost painful, a heavy heat between my thighs that demanded attention. I released him finally, letting him gasp against my skin, feeling the desperate gratitude in the way his hands clenched behind his back, still obedient, still restrained. I leaned back enough to meet his eyes, watching the dazed hunger there, the submission that had settled deeper than before. "Unzip my skirt," I ordered, my voice rougher now, the command firm. "Slowly." (TBC)  

 When I wrote my profile, I had no idea what this site was like, but now that I've been here for a little while, I have a few things to add:I'm not interested in slaves, domestic servants or switches. This should go without saying, but I'm also not interested in men who aren't single. Long distance relationships don't work. If you don't currently live in (or near enough to conveniently drive to) the state of Florida, we will not be a match.My inbox has been flooded with messages from nameless, faceless guys who want to chat, but I'm not on this site looking for anonymous penpals. I'm sorry.I'm not interested in talking to submissives without photos. You've seen my face. If you feel uncomfortable showing me yours, that's totally fine, but if you're just words on a screen, I'm not going to be able to take you seriously. I am monogamous, and I have absolutely no interest in cuckolding. If that sort of thing interests you, you are not a candidate for the kind of relationship I'm looking for, so please don't waste my time or yours.  

Tree of life and tree of knowledge were not actually trees. The tree of life was God and the tree of knowledge was the devil. The devil was actively talking to Eve in the garden about how he felt towards God. Eve was believing him and started talking to Adam about it who wasn't sure but eventually sided with his wife Eve. They wanted the devil to rule over them instead of God. It was the devil who told them they were naked. It was the devil who said they weren't getting what they truly needed from God. When God came to the garden they hid from him thinking he was the bad guy that the devil made them to believe. They were clothed with leaves. God questioned this and asked who told them they were naked and they told them the devil did. God then asked them what else the devil said. God then gave them a choice to worship him or follow under the devil's care. They chose the devil. God kicked them out of the garden and explained to them they would die one day because they were leaving the tree of life behind and they would no longer have access to it. They would have to learn from their choices. 

So, many years ago I met someone on here, who absolutely blew my mind.  I'd never experienced control before and it was an amazing journey. From the very beginning, the controlling of my time, as in what I did with my free time, updates of where I would be at certain times in the day so they always knew where I was. Having to be available at specific times. Not a minute before or a minute after. Controlling how and when I touched myself if I could have an orgasm. Even my clothing having to replace my underwear with women's underwear. Sitting to go to the toilet. All these things which I was told was leading up to a very hard limit of feminizing. Which was a total mind fuck. Because with each step that I was pushed and you eventually that that limit would be pushed as well and if both scared and excited me at the same time.  Now I never knew as we never got to it if that would have happened, whether I would have been feminized or whether because it was a very hard limit of mine, it was simply used as a mind fuck. Either way it's certainly did the trick. The less freedom I had and the more control she took made me feel so submissive and so desperate to continue to please.

I Wonder Who We Are... I often look at myself thru the eyes of my mind. Who do I **think** I am? Who do I want to be? Who am I? What am I? I wonder how many others take the time to self-reflect like this? I try to do this weekly.  Sometimes late at night as I bask in the quiet night’s arms I find my mind drifting to the day gone by. I replay the days events and scrutinize my actions at times.  TODAY, did I live my life to my best potential? The gift of life I was given is a treasure that we so often under value. It's easy to get caught up in the daily struggles that inflict us as we sometimes dredge thru the day thankful it's over.  Guilty! After all we are all human.  In a world filled with hate, selfishness, struggles and woes sometimes its all we can do not to scream. Allow a blood curling sound to exit our lungs, travel up our throats picking up momentum as it exits our lips with a shiver echoing thru the darkness to find no respite.  A primal sound that perhaps evolved from our primal ancestors to never develop or change in the millions of years gone by. Signaling our frustrations and every other imaginable negative energy that exists within us today. As we yearn to release it all allowing them to somehow be absorbed into the cosmos, never to return. A cry for help perhaps? Perhaps.  Perhaps it's just an evacuation of all that we resent exiting us hoping we can fill the vacancy with the positive. I like to think that's the case with me. But as I look around each day, looking for positive energy, from my fellow man I am left starving. Wanting to see more beauty I can absorb to act as my muse. Guiding me to be a better me as it motivates me to want to feed love back into the world.  But alas, it has become a daunting task. Disappointment abounds the empty caverns of my heart and mind. Have we become so shallow as a society that the only thing that now defines us is instant and momentary self gratification? Often at the expense of others. Is this what thousands of centuries of evolution has led us to? NAY I say! Not I today! Unable to find it readily at the hand of my two legged peers I turn to nature. I find myself being blindly led to the pasture where my four legged friends reside. I hear their whinnies as they see me approaching. Running towards me anxious to see me. Besides me walks my fury four legged best friend. My canine soul mate who has dedicated his life to unselfishly and unconditionally love me. To never leave me no matter what I do or how I treat him. He is bound for life to me. Arriving closer to the gate a thunderous echo of stampeding hooves envelopes the air. Filling my ears with its roar as it approaches closer. Standing on the lush green carpet of grass I am surrounded by these four legged majestic creatures that so easily could do me harm. My smaller companion eyeing them carefully under his protective gaze.  Wet nuzzles against my hands searching for treats. This action is common place here. All fighting for my attention as there are so many and I am only but one. The creative one among the group, finding no need to challenge the rest for the position of my hands. He quietly walks up behind me. I am made aware of his presence among the distraction as I feel rubbing against my back. His side turned head using my back as a scratching post to satisfy his itch?  No my friends that is not the self centered case of this half ton creature. He is saying, "Daddy I am here. I missed you. Where have you been?" He is most certainly not the alpha but nor is he the omega. He falls somewhere in between the alphabetically defining realm of personality letters.  Turning to let him know I acknowledge his presence with rubs I manage just a few. The other horses quickly pushing him away to look to my moving hands for what they desire. Treats and rewards to fill their already fat full bellies. Yet he stands alone a mere stones toss away watching. Reaching into my pockets I retrieve a handful of treats. Allowing the surrounding herd to acknowledge them with their keen sense of smell I toss them in the opposite direction of my inamorato who stands there with no desire to chase such petty treats. The rest of the herd now busy vying to retrieve the hand tossed delicacies he approaches me. I hold his head against me with love and affection. It is as much his fuel as it is my own. I turn to exit, followed at a respectable distance by my adoring and adored friend.  Holding it open signaling him the permission he seeks to exit the field and the others who physically resemble him. As the three of us stand there, me enjoying and soaking up the moment, I can't help but observe. Acknowledging and absorbing the actions that just took place.  My plotted journey observed and responded to. The actions and reactions as I entered. The easily manipulated distraction I created that all but one fell prey to.  His dedication to follow me outside his defined boundaries and the company of the others physically like him who have near matching DNA. His choice to leave the safety of his peers signals to me that he finds safety and comfort in my company. His trust in me that I always have and always will be his caregiver, his provider, his protector fills my now empty heart.  The many journeys we have traveled together since his birth are safely tucked away in my mind. Easily retrieved to reminisce upon when needed. As I stand there admiring this majestic creature of God before me my mind retrieves from the filing cabinet labeled with his name. Quickly sorting thru day 3 of his birth begins to play.  He is laying curled upon a stack of hay within a stall of the barn. His protective mother standing guard over him. Her ears pinned back warning anyone that intends to do him harm to stay away. Her eyes soften and ears relax as she recognizes me as the source of the sound. Carefully not to startle the sleeping foal I slowly approach. His mother content with who the human visitor is allows me safe passage.  I find myself first sitting next to him admiring his beauty. Astounded by the miracle of birth that he is. His soft breathing seen in the way the straw beneath his nose moves back and forth as he inhales and exhales so gently. Leaning in closer to touch him I look at his guardian looking down at me as if silently asking for her permission to get closer. When I see no warnings of alarm in her I move my hand gently running it across his neck.  His days old fur so soft I am jealous not to have something as comforting as this to sleep upon myself. He releases a soft sigh as if finding comfort in my loving strokes.  Now realizing that the submissive love his mother has given me extends to the trust of her new born, I inch closer. Soon I find myself laying along side his tiny body. Curled up next to him I drape an arm over him. Another soft sudden exhale of breath reaches my ears. Is he communicating his pleasure in feeling my warm body against? Is he capable of such a thought process? I lay there for what feels like hours pressed against him. Only to realize as he begins to finally stir that it’s only been 10 minutes by my watches time.   Emancipated from this world lost in head space I return the the physical by his movement.  He turns his head, in what seems to be, a search to find the source of his sighs. I softly look into his eyes hoping he can peer into my own and see the love and adoration I have for him. THAT moment etched in my mind forever more NEVER to be lost or forgotten.   Slowly he rises as if not to harm me and stands over my still prone form. I find my heart overflowing with love. If only I could find this form of love in my own breed. His mother content that no harm will befall him under my watch, complete and loyal trust bestowed upon me finds comfort in our bond to now lay down herself.  Obviously exhausted by the ritual of birth and having to provide  protection to her child. Her 1400 lb mass taking up much of the stall but careful not to invade my space. Suddenly I find myself lost in thought. Who do I think I am? Who do I want to be? Who am I? What am I? To THEM.  A brushing against my calf returns me to the world of today as the drawer filled memories are closed. In the universe of my mind I lost a momentary connection to this plane of existence.  My canine comrade standing now by my side waiting for direction. He looks at me then glances to the tack room and back at me. As if he is asking me, in the best way he knows, “Are we going for a ride?” my eyes look down at him as I rub his head. “Not today good boy. Today daddy just needed affirmation to who he is. My hearts full again. Thank you.” “Go get him and let’s go back in. Daddy has work to do.” Doing what he’s been taught to do under my caring tutelage he bounds off to bring back my blessed 4 legged gift. A simple double click from me, seeing his adopted brother heading his way, he knows its time to go back. With the look of a bowed head he walks to me as I rub his face and ears. I whisper in his ears, “Good boy.” As if content to hear these words he heads for the gate. Opening the gate I let him return to his pasture mates where he looks like just another horse. “Come on dog. Daddy has to go search for someone! “ he says as he turns to go back into the house. Because now I know who and what I am. I know what I was meant to be.

Question: I would be interested to hear about your journeys and how you navigated finding your D/s type. ANSWER: In my experience, it can be an occasionally rewarding, but largely difficult and frustrating journey. But then I guess a lot depends on who you are (I mean, really are as a person and what you expect/seek). At its best is more honest and intimate than anything else I know, but then it can also be hugely intolerant and judgemental too - something of an irony to my mind. There is such a broad spectrum of interests and needs that simple labels - no matter how many there are - are not sufficient. Unless you identify as a victim and ride like flotsam on the tides of kink, it is important to know yourself. If you don't know you, how do you expect anyone else to?? Mine has been a long journey, the most recent insight being that I am an empath, albeit an unusual one. Knowing this now makes so much sense of things in past, both in BDSM and vanilla life. But I know I am still processing it all and have a way to go. I will leave you with two thoughts: Through BDSM, one is made aware of who one truly is. This may not be who they thought they were, who they want to be or even who they think they should be, but it will be them. (and more controversial) Everyone (dominants and submissives) is damaged in some way - not always obviously and often not admitted even to themselves - and this will have bearing on how they contribute to and what they take from BDSM. The links are not simple linear ones, but they are always there. Understanding one's own damage is healthy. Understanding the damage of a potential partner is enlightening. And finally, when you find a place, however brief, you will feel with intensity and know what it is to be alive!

OK, so here's the second installment of my new profile: Still here? Still interested? Now on to the kink stuff...## ***Kink information***### **Things that i know about myself that i want more of in my life****my rubber self**I enjoy wearing layers of loose fitting full enclosure rubber, with a hood, gloves, gasmask, and socks. If you are dressed in any amount of rubber, that would be great. I'm happy to be with people wearing all kinds of clothing and gear, or nothing at all. I will be in full enclosure rubber myself.**My submissive self:**i am looking to become a rubber gimp or drone slave, i.e. used like a slave and stored like a gimp. i want to try out & test myself & to see if i do want to be a gimp slave in reality as compared to fantasy. i have lots of solo experience, but very little in-person real-life experience, so a lot of what i want to do is not informed my real-world experience.As your rubber gimp slave i want to to provide protected and safe sexual service to my dominant person while in layers of full enclosure rubber, gagged, blindfolded, leashed, cuffed, plugged and entubed & also some or all of the following: bondage, behaviour control, breath control, piss play, cart & dressage pony play, being controlled, financial domination & doing housework.my attitude is that bondage is about training and getting used to wearing rubber gear on a longterm basis, and so i am seeking to serve you by being forced into and kept in rubber gear, and learning to safely overcome the challenges that come with that. However more importantly, the full rubber gear is a means to an end where i can much better service You.i want to make Your life easier. i will pull my own weight by working in Your home or outside it while in rubber to earn income for the household. i am not no-limits rubber slave.---**As an equal:** I am into long sessions of mutual cuddling, kissing, body stroking in layers of heavy rubber. I am really interested to try living as rubber drones in a hive with contracts and rules that govern the behaviour of the hive and its members, such as these concepts and contracts by [Unit03](https://fetlife.com/users/8849164): - [The concept of a rubber hive: an introduction](https://fetlife.com/users/8849164/posts/6373426)- [Rubber Hive Contracts (or other kink between equals)](https://fetlife.com/users/8849164/posts/6412980)- [Model Short-Term Hive Contract](https://fetlife.com/users/8849164/posts/6413413)## **Limits**Explicit and enthusiastic consent is the sexiest thing. Don't fucking touch me without asking, even (especially!) if I'm in full rubber, naked or wearing something skimpy. Ask nicely and you might be surprised.My limits:-     no blood-     no needles-     no intentionally broken skin-     no scat-     no vomit-     no tickling-     no rimming (giving)-     no marks visible to the vanilla world-     no permanent marks-     no blows to the head-     no sudden neck/head movements-     no sudden loud noises-     no oral, vaginal or anal sex without a condom.## **Safer sex**Asking for (or assuming!) unprotected sex when we are new or casual play partners is a red flag.### **Things that i don't know about myself, and i want to explore to see if i want more in my life**i knew from an early age that i was into rubber. However, there are some bdsm activities that aren't easily compatible with rubber, and so i have never explored them. In 2023, i am realising that i want to try these to see if i also like them, and that if i want to try them, that i have to take off my rubber skin (which is a bit scary). This is what i'd like to try:- sensation play- impact play (whips, floggers, paddles, spanking)- rope bondage- wax play- high protocol- oral and vaginal sex with people of all genders