Just a note — I'm probably not going to gel very well with other sub trans girls, but I'm happy to share pics and chat about our desires, so please don't hesitate to contact me if you like what you see in my profile.   Also, again a note for trans Dommes — I like Mommy Dommes who know that D/s goes both ways. I will happily fluff your ego and make you feel great about yourself if you can treat me like a baby girl who needs pampering, attention and love just in the same way. I will be as obedient to you as I can without doing anything immoral or illegal, of course, and I'll flatter, obey, pump up your ego, and be sweet and submissive to you just like a subbie baby girl or DMlg sub should be.   Same applies if you're an exceptionally good Daddy or Mommy cis Dom/me. I see so many selfish and egotistical profiles from most Dommes which are a huge turn off — the lecturing about throwing away your ego as a sub will work out long-term when you're ready to throw away your female or male ego as a Dom/me, and realize that you're serving your subs needs like they serve yours. They're your priority too, and you need to make them feel good about themselves serving you if you want them there forever. A young and horny boy or girl will serve you to get their needs for some sexual satisfaction fulfilled, but they'll be tired of your galaxy-sized ego saying that you're always right and they're always wrong just because of your relationship dynamics.A similar idea for subs: Please don't ever neglect the need for aftercare for Dom/mes too. They need it as much as you, and they're probably less confident, powerful and in control than you think. It's still a roleplay in a sense, and they have the same doubts as you about their performance. Before or after you get confirmation from them that you were a good boy/girl, be sure to puff up and stroke their egos too and tell them how you loved serving them, that they're a great Daddy/Mommy, etc. Please use your imagination. If your owner isn't good at communicating this back, be sure to ask them for an ego boost and validation as well. Don't stay with them if they become selfish and demanding, though, this is not a one-way street. You have valid needs and you need to ask for them to be fulfilled, too.

Have this on my other profile as well not that anyone ever reads on this site but, oh well .....LOL Took this online test. Turns out it's exactly the kind of vanilla side in a man that I am looking for. I usually don't do those online tests but I was bored   LOL My guy:  Fun-Loving Charmer  Someone who makes life feel exciting and easy. I'm drawn to humor, confidence, and people who don't take themselves too seriously. Dates should feel like a good time, not an interview.My type: Funny, playful, socialGreen flags: Effort without pressureRed flags: Boring routines, emotional heaviness too fast Yes there has to be a vanilla side as well, or the kind of lifestyle D/s that I am looking for just won't work.  No, you can't fake it, and No, I won't just take your word for it, it has

  Obedience Rituals for a kajira.   A kajira must be obedient and pleasing. She has many ways to assure her master. The obedience rituals provide a striking set of actions that every kajira must master. First Obedience The girl presents herself before her master who has commanded first obedience. She kneels before her master with her hands on the floor. Next the kajira rubs her cheeks and hair on her master’s feet. While attending to her master, the girl must tell her master how much she loves being his slave and how much she loves him. She continues pleasuring her master while pleading that she only wants to be his kajira, his pleasure slave. When the master signals that she has met his needs she must remain in position for other commands such as Second Obedience. Second Obedience The kajira remains kneeling with her hair on her master’s feet. She begins kissing his feet and telling him what sexual favors she will provide. How long and how many desires she uncovers is up to her. She may also plead for sex acts that she needs and wants. The more detailed and complete the better. The master will let her know when she has fulfilled her duties, usually by being ordered to Nadu position.  

Something I just wrote to someone on here which I think is a valid statement from me: I mean I'm not on here just for sex. I'm a sapiosexual above anything and to even interest me you have to engage me on a mental level. To expound on that, I'm also here to expose myself to people and concepts of sexuality and expression that are new to me. As I've explored further, by reading, connecting with people and experience I find that I've become a more sex positive person in general. I've been accepting new and bizarre things that perhaps turn me on and celebrating them instead of shaming them away. I am becoming more comfortable as a sexual creature as I follow my curiosity. I am also honing my communication skills. I love the emphasis the BDSM community has on talking about limits and consent and making sure people feel heard and valued. It's a value set we would do well to enact in our everyday vanilla efforts to communicate. These are just some musings I suppose.

I bring it on myself, I know. I am a perfectionist overachiever and I do too much. Earlier I was taking a break watching tv, and a song came on. I don't even remember the song now, but I burst into tears for a good few minutes for no reason at all. Other than I have created a monster of a deadline that I am spending way too much time working on. No balance. But we knew this.  The other day I had a conversation with someone about pacifiers. Not just the what, but the why, and the stigma and labels, and how none of that matters. I bought two, they're purple. After a run through the dishwasher I tried one out the other day. I don't know that I feel anything, but I also don't know what it is I'm supposed to feel or if it has to be used in conjunction with a particular activity, like coloring. Which I hadn't done in that moment. Or this one. I kind of feel like Maggie Simpson. What I don't feel like is an infant, and I'm glad of that. Guess I'll continue my experiment another day when I can do more things with less stress. I'm still calling this progress in breaking down barriers. Oh, and I bought bubbles. Looking forward to a day when it's not a million degrees outside. 

For my birthday trip, I reached out to a few people a week before my flight to the East Coast.  One here, an admirer: I dropped him a line asking if he wanted to meet for coffee. The records show that he read my message, but he never replied.  On another site, I followed up on a post from someone offering massages. There was no way to message the person directly, but the site indicates that there's a response to a post when you log on. He logged on since I posted my comment, and I heard nothing before I boarded my plane.  I actually saw his reply after I got back: he finally reached out when I was away. However, by the tie I landed and got settled, activities started and I didn't bother checking these sites. He requested a raincheck for my return. I told him sure, if I remembered.  "Oh, if only you weren't so far away ..." my aunt fanny.

There is a mystical moment when two men meet and sex is in the air. They both know what they want but one is a bottom he may or may not know it. Then there is a moment of hesitation when after looking the object of his desire the hand extends to feel what his body is craving. Still if there is a little presumption of an ill understood machismo that hand moves slowly for what feels like an eternity. After contact caressing the phallus is not sufficient, but how to surrender? Finally, the top takes over, and firmly guides him to acknowledge his place, kneeling; and having the object of his desires close to the parting lips... Sheer poetry, bliss, sweet hesitation, and the ultimate surrender to open his mouth and forgetting the world around devotes his energy to please the object of his desire, his top, who allows the bottom to taste him deep and completely. They are not strangers anymore, the bottom has found his niche in the order of things, kneeling and giving up any pretense of control. From now on his domination is in the hands of his top.  

Mounting a STR8 male Pilars of society, husbands, fathers, movers and shakers. in all body types and backgrounds. You've got to love them all; at least I do. I'm partial to the bravado, the in your face attitude that screams "I'm terrified of venturing outside of my gender, but with the right MAN I'm game." The one thing to remember is to be subtle, these boys are a scary bunch and the slightest threat to their perceived orientation will make them clam up (pun intended) tight and you will loose your boy. However, once you're in their trust that is your chance to explore and they will provide the info you need. Family, marriage, parental relationships  and home issues. Overwhelmed, over worked, and under sexed; perfect combination and there is you, a strong paternal figure to hug them and tell them you understand  and suffer with his plight.  There is a moment of vulnerability in which you become his whole world as he contemplates all crumbling you are the sturdy support.  Sometimes it takes time to get there. Of course this does not apply to your male bride, the one you want for you only.  Check my journal on male brides.  Eventually it will graduate to touching, hugging, kissing and then cock play.  Once you become the adult in his eyes he will nurse from your rod and do it often because is “us boys.” But once he kneels to suck you his body is yours to explore and his butt is there as he is busy following your instructions on how to please you. Easy does it, touch, probe by do not put you finger in yet. Let him get use to your touch and caress.  Eventually his ass will arch up and that is your cue  to begin your entry. Ever so slowly and tenderly. Let  his  body guide you and then move your body to a position of dominance, standing and him in all fours. Pick him up, embrace him and assure him your understanding and his need for release.  Play with his cock , remember he is str8 and feels entitled. Yet as you play in front prepare the rear by probing his prostate. He’ll go through the roof realizing he never felt this with his wife, there is pleasure in his ass and you, his pal, just opened a new window for him to look out of. He is now yours and he will come back, promise. 

A Raven and a Wolf   He sat, kneeling really, slowly panting, under a soft leather hood. It was laced tightly, almost preventing his every breath. And in the darkness, under the hood, he strained his ears to hear whether she was near, or far. He inhaled, trying to find her scent, but could only smell the leather of the hood. He tried to feel if he could sense her presence closer, but nothing. The air was still. His mouth, dry from nerves, with lips slightly agape, didn't utter a sound.   So he waited, arms bound, shoulder back, chest forward and exposed. Uncomfortably upright.    She sat before him, watching him lazily, like how a cat does with a weakened mouse, very still. A hunter and their prey. She was breathing evenly to hide the excitement pooling inside of her. Hands encased in buttery soft lamb skin gloves, the color of his hood, the color of her whip, the color of blood. The color of her lips. A red so beautiful. Her eyes sparkled at the idea of it coming from his body. Beautiful and broken. She could sense he was searching for her; a slight turn of the head, listening, perhap? Leaning forward gently; trying to smell? Like a dog, she thought, just like a dog. And she sat there far longer than even she desired to see how far this "dog" would go.    "Bark, dog" she commanded in a low voice  And he barked immediately, no hesitation. She pulled back her hand and slapped him, his head jerked, body lurched, chest rising and falling rapidly. A noticeable difference between his legs. There it was again, a hunger to bite into him. Taste his blood. Consume him. But only silence. No whimper, no moan, not a sound escaped him. She wondered if he were bleeding from his cute little mouth. Again she slapped him. Softer than the first, a loving caress, bits of his hair peeked through the laces of the hood and she wanted to grip them and tear them away. Would he let her? Perhaps.    The next slap, and the one after, opposite hand, and he fell forward just enough that his face touched her thighs only separated by the hood and her own stockings. The rule was he wasn't allowed to touch her unless she said. This was a broken rule, however accidental. She stood and let him slump forward in a stupor, supported only by the tension of the rope tied to the foot of the bed.   Bark, dog. Dog. He barked.  Up, dog, and he returned to his previous place, exposed and upright. She stepped forward, the toe of her shoe pressing down on the sensitive flesh of the head of his dick. She crushed it gently until he sat even straighter. She held his head in her left hand, caressed it gently, leather on leather. The smell intoxicating her. Raising her right hand she slapped him again, over and over until her hand grew hot even under the glove. Was he bleeding? She hoped so. She hoped to kiss him and bite his lips and taste his blood. She wished she could see his eyes, dazed, glassy, far away. She caressed his head. And whispered, "you may touch me" and he pressed his face into her hands, her thighs. Still no sound, he was so silent.   "Bark, my handsome boy" and he barked, hoarse and painful as she encircled his neck with her hands. This was his idea, he had inspired in her a lust for choking him until he was nothing and drifting away in the ether. She squeezed, her hands perhaps too small, until he gurgled. She wondered if his eyes were open or if they were dimmed. The hood obscured so much. She squeezed until he seemed to go limp. And she let him. Shoulders yanked uncomfortably under his weight.    He awoke. Arms aching, face hot but no longer enclosed by the hood. He could see her though his vision lacked acuity. She was standing over him, wrapped in pink except for gloves. He yearned for them then. Yearned for them to be around his neck, feeling the bones of her fingers threatening his very life. He wanted to ask for it, for her to choke him, strangle him, but knew it was to her whim that he obeyed. Obeisance was her pleasure. He looked at her, eyes soft, left cheek swollen, lips split ever so slightly and she leaned down and kissed him, sliding her tongue over the drying blood. He kissed her back, gentle, but hungry.    Her kiss was soft but grew more passionate until she bit him and suckled his mouth. Did he love this part of her? The softness before the sting.  She broke the kiss. Her lipstick perfect but her mouth and chin stained crimson with what must have been his blood. "Open your mouth, I'd like to try" she said softly. A shy whisper. So unlike the command to "Bark".  He angled himself upright, head back, lips parting painfully like a little bird. She leaned forward and let her own saliva pool in her mouth and slowly let it fall into his. He shuddered. His excitement excited her and she kissed him again before he could even swallow but this time it was wild and wet. Her saliva all over his mouth, chin, cheeks.    "I have to whip you now, are you ready?" She asked and he nodded. A question was not a command to speak. Dogs do not speak unless commanded to speak. She untied him and his body fell forward. Not used to its old range of motion. His limbs buzzed from having sat in one position for too long. He wondered about how much time had passed. Funny thing, time. Why did it matter now when he was in the moment with her.   Without the hood he realized he could smell her. A warm sweet scent, perhaps arousal. And he thought then about being forced to please her like they talked about in passing, forced until exhausted and even beyond. After play. Her, in her pink, looked like candy and he wanted to lick her. She must be sweet.      She looked down at him and his face was peculiar, his mind was somewhere else and he looked rather cute. But she was jealous at the idea that his mind wasn't on her and she kicked him in the stomach to bring him back to her. He coughed and curled up as she walked to retrieve her whip, preparing for the next step in her courtship.  "Up" she commanded and he got to his feet, winded, bruised. Arms still behind his back. She released them to tie them around the post of the bed. The bed post being the whipping post, isn't it somehow romantic, she thought.    "If you need me to stop, tell me, I won't be gentle otherwise" she said to him, her mouth on his ear. His hair was slicked down with sweat and he smelled musky. She liked his smell. She bit his earlobe and stepped back a couple of feet and threw the whip. Lash after lash until he tried moving away. Pulling at the post until it creaked. She wanted him to cry but he only moaned and groaned, no tears. Just a brow drenched in sweat as his back went from fine pink lines to slowly oozing wounds. If he didn't give her tears then she would have blood.  He pulled desperately as if trying to escape her and she threw the whip furiously, lashing whatever she could reach, his ass, thighs, calves, neck, even the back of his head. The post groaned as if it would break under the strength of him trying to flee.   "Do you want to get away from me?" She asked. His breathing heavy, labored, his body wobbled as blood poured from him, he shook his head no, weakly, and looked over his weeping shoulders with hazy eyes. Finally he spoke, a clear and clean "No, ma'am" from his lips now dry from mouth breathing, swollen from having been bitten and slapped.   The no rang through her body and she leapt at him and kissed and licked his mouth, his shoulders, his back. Barely containing her arousal, her hips moving in slow circles. She was so hungry.&n

 I would acctept a female submissive to teach a sissy the ways of womanhood. I don't form sissies from scratch, will advise ones already shaved smooth, wearing panties and a plug. sissies should be wearing a plug on their own, they don't need a Master telling them to. a plug is not to stretch them but to teach them relax and let it enter and to clench on the narrow neck to tone their sissy pussy. they should learn to milk a cock thrust into it's loins, also a sissy should pick it's  own sissy or femme name to identify with, not wait for a Master to give it one. if they want to rename the sissy, so be it. if you're a Mistress or a Wife that has a sissy you think needs a little or a lot of Male interaction I can visit, even stay for a few days to do so. DB I have a room already set up for MY sissy. it has a bed, small bondage table, a tall stool, a cage and boxes and shelves of toys, cuffs, collars,straps and other supplies. 

When fantasy meets reality, some men find themselves lost in the space between what they imagine and what truly exists. In a world filled with movies, games, social media, and idealized images, it becomes easy to mistake fantasy for attainable truth. They may chase unrealistic versions of women, power, or status, forgetting that real life is imperfect, complex, and grounded in responsibility. When the line between fantasy and reality fades , disappointment, frustration, and confusion often follow. Learning to see life as it is—not as we wish it to be—takes maturity and self-awareness. True strength lies in facing reality head-on, appreciating genuine experiences over illusions, and building a life that is real, not imagined. Men...you need to do better.       

I am tired.  I am wore slap out already.   Working 10- 12 hour days.. Six days a week and four hours the seventh.  It has gotten old very quickly while I wait for bosses to make decisions on who will be my next assistant without consideration from me.   The stress of work, the stress of house, has me completely blown out.  I collapse into exhausted sleep every evening now, while thoughts of work and how I will have the energy to get the most simple of things done at house that I need to get taken care of.   These are my days right now.   So forgive me if I get a little on edge when the word fun is thrown at me like a ball to my dog.  I dont have time for fun. I have a department to run.  I couldnt care less about fun.  I care about making it through the next day with hopefully a little less stress than the last.  I care about making it through my contract so I can get my rearend home where I will be happier.   Fun is good and all, but it is not the focus of my life.  It is not the focus of what I want in a relationship.   Sorry for the rant y'all.  I am just so tired of hearing... what are you doing fun tonight or well thats no fun.  Shaking my head.  I am beginning to detest that word with a passion.

The Most Dangerous Woman in the Room Intelligence is non-negotiable for me. Not as a preference, not as a nice-to-have. As oxygen. The dynamic I crave lives and dies on the quality of mind across from me, and frankly, a dull submissive is the least interesting thing I can imagine. What would be the point of the subversion without something worth subverting? Because that is what this is, at its core. Subversion. And it is my favorite thing about my own dominance. There is a particular kind of woman the world has decided it understands. Beautiful, polished, old money in her bones and silver screen glamor in the way she moves. The kind of woman who makes a room recalibrate when she enters it, not loudly, but inevitably. The world looks at her and thinks it knows the story: the accomplished man beside her, the elegant life, the complementary pair. Matched. Balanced. Conventional, underneath the gorgeous surface. The world is wrong, and I find that endlessly delightful. He is, to every outside eye, exactly what he appears: successful, intelligent, the kind of man other men respect without quite knowing why. He carries himself well. He speaks well. He is, in every social context that matters to anyone watching, her equal, if not more. The couple that makes people feel vaguely inspired just by existing in the same room. And then the door closes. And he kneels. That gap, between the world's assumption and the private truth, is where the magic lives for me. It is cinematic in the way that only real things can be cinematic, because no one scripted it, no one performs it for an audience, no one gets to see it but us. It is entirely, privately ours. A secret folded inside the most publicly acceptable packaging imaginable. There is something about a genuinely powerful man choosing, with full understanding of what he is doing, to place himself at the mercy of a woman who will use that power exactly as she sees fit, that feels like the most honest thing two people can construct together. Not despite his strength. Because of it. Submission means nothing from someone who had nothing to surrender. The kneeling matters because of who is doing the kneeling. And I will not pretend the aesthetics are irrelevant, because they are not. The cut of a well-made dress. The particular quality of composure that reads as warmth to strangers and means something else entirely to him. The way the room sees two people and I know, with complete and unhurried certainty, exactly what is happening under the surface of every pleasant exchange. That knowledge is its own kind of power, and I wear it the way I wear everything: beautifully, and without explaining myself to anyone. The Trad wife trope exists as a container for a certain kind of woman. Lovely, accomplished on the correct terms, a complement to the man she stands beside. I find that container useful primarily for how satisfying it is to blow the bottom out of it, privately, completely, in ways the people who built it will never see coming and never get to witness.   That, to me, is what real magic looks like.

Below is a cut and paste of a partial response to someone who asked me "where am I from?" I told them to google why asking a POC that question is racist. For a change, they did. My response explains not only why one should not ask where I am from, but also why I require my potential anything to be an intersectional feminist.  I will also point out that it is not my responsibility to educate you, it is your own responsibility to educate yourself. ***** If we simply look at the stats from last weeks international mother language day, English is the most spoke language in the world. The reason for that is because of the colonization by the British empire. Which leads me to point out how not homogeneous the population of UK is as during that time, the colonists literally kidnapped from every corner of the world then forced (the kidnapees) to reside in the UK. The "barbarians" were regularly brought back and exhibited then dumped to live in the worst conditions if not as slaves. The white majority forced all these minority to erase their rich culture in order to survive. And not just in the UK but at their homeland. Simply research into chicken tikka masala - not a dish that existed in India before the British invasion. One also simply has to trace the development of rice as a cash crop around the world to observe the change abolition had the Chinese diora. There are many examples in the history to demonstrate the diversity of UK's population. ... This is why in my profile I clearly state I am looking for partners who are intersectional feminists. People who have at least attempted educated themselves about how different factors in the world that have affected peoples lives, specifically that of disadvantaged individuals. Because while I do not expect my partners and I to share common life experiences, empathy and the willingness to understand where each other comes from is an important thing to have in every relationship. Being supportive and an ally is another.

As for presenting herself for a full inspection or examination there are a couple of ways this can be done. She has undergone inspections in the past as most Doms like to fully inspect her at the beginning of their ownership.Her present Dom carried out a full examination of her not so long ago.Normally I clear the sitting room table.I have a duvet which fits the table perfectly and a pillow making it comfortable for her to lay on for a long period.I dont know how long you take to conduct such an inspection but I know by experience they can take over an hour to completeShe is then placed on the table with her arms secured above her head. A chain attached from the top table legs to the cuffs on her wrists keep her secure.The same for her legs although I normally use a leg spreader for her feet so she is then firmly secured in a spread eagle position.A small cable around her knees attached to the lower table legs assure her legs are kept wide apart throughout the inspection.This allows full access to her open vagina.Inspections or examinations can be very erotic for the inspector although can be humiliating for her.It is certainly humiliating for me, the husband having his wife inspected in such a manor. Sometimes the husband is allowed to stay and assist other times the husband is sent out of the room so the examination can be carried out in private..Please let me know your preference.Normally the head is examined first, the hair ears and mouth. Her last examiner inserted three fingers in her mouth and made her suck on them for a few minutes to test the power of her suck.Then of course the neck and arms and underarms which is free from hair as it is removed regularly.Moving on down to her breasts and nipples. no piercings or tattoos, her stomach which you will find is flat. then her quite long slim legs and thighs and of course her vagina which is very attractive as well as being soft and smooth. On inserting you fingers you will find her vagina is very tight despite being well used and she becomes very wet very easily. Masturbating her with your fingers for just a few minutes will get her extremely wet.There is a speculum available if you want to look deep inside her.She can be untied and on her knees for an anal inspection.She can of course be inspected in the standing up position if preferred.Again please let me know your preference.

Living in a fantasy world doesn’t help anyone—not you, not the people around you, not the future you claim to want. Being useful means showing up in reality, doing the work, learning real skills, and taking responsibility instead of escaping into excuses or imaginary victories. Dreams matter, but without action they’re just noise. Ground yourself, contribute something real, and turn effort into results—that’s how you actually move forward. I often find Myself not wanting to come back on this site , for reasons of giving My time to men that are basically all talk and no action.  Don't take that the wrong way. I'm not looking for a " play partner " I'm not a pro and I'm not looking for a hit or miss situation.  I am only looking for fulltime and hopefully lifetime commitments.  I get so many on here that are basically saying the same thing. They are looking for a FLR, they are looking for this or that. What I am saying is I'm looking for someone that will add to My life. Hopefully someone with skills, around the house, a garden, willing to learn almost a very different life that I an pressed forward into living.  Even if you are only a background male that is willing to learn what I am capible of teaching, that is good enough.  But, if you are from the city I promise you , you will probably struggle and not understand what real country life is about.  In that case you should pass by this profile and looking for a wuss position in the city .   

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