Asian Women!  Yes, I printed that statement with an exclamation mark.  Information about Asian girls is always headline news for me.  For my Patty Duke lookalike ex, the headline news was me in the morning with the sheet up like a tent.  She didn't read the newspapers much so I had to explain the headlines to her.  What is it about Asian girls that men like?  The tiny Japanese girls can walk on your back. push their toes into you, massage you.  Men can later push something into their masseuse as payback.  Japanese lesbian massage porn is also good.  Men are excited over good images.  There are other tiny Asians with good sexual attributes like Vietnamese and Thai girls.  But, the Filipina girls may have it over anyone.  They can be short, cute, hot, stunning, friendly and many of them like white men.  They have dark hair, dark eyebrows, big lips.  That's why white men go down to the Philippines.  Filipinos were also on our side in the war.  Good for them.     I was downloading some movies from YouTube today for my upcoming camping trip.  I came across some interesting YouTube videos about the Philippines.  'Filipina Wife vs American Wife Differences You Never Knew!' screamed the headlines.  I like screamers.  I married one (ask my ex).  Headlines got better when I read 'A Filipina explains why blowjobs are important.  It's not gonna suck itself' she said. And 'Every Filipina Has 3 Holes: understanding women in the Philippines-Which Hole Should you Use?', 'Back Door in the Philippines' plus 'Ranking Foreigners by Attractiveness in the Philippines-How Big is your Sausage?' plus 'Dear Foreigner, shorter is better in the Philippines.  My reading skills were getting better as the headlines carried on.     But, like some marriages, headlines can let down an already 'ready' white man looking for a Filipina girl.  'The Older Single Filipina Trap: 7 Women You'll Encounter in the Philippines (DANGER)', 'Going To Jail for Dumping Your Filipina GF' implies some possible pending letdown. 'Exposing the LIES of Living in the Philippines',  '59 Million Women in the Philippines and You Still Can't Find One as a Foreigner — Here's Why', 'The "Sister" Trap: A Cautionary Tale of Retiring in the Philippines' (Too bad.  I like little sisters),  'I Moved to the Philippines with $127,000. 3 Years Later I Was Broke & Begging in Manila Airport' and there was the advice 'Filipinas - Vietnamese - Thai...I've lived with all 3 and the differences are HUGE!'    There is a truth to the reality of marriages and off shore dating and relationships.  I had my chance at dating/marrying a cute, skinny, petite, educated Filipina (degree in Agriculture).  She worked at McDonalds in Saskatchewan.  Asian girls are a pleasant, hardy and hard-working grade of female and are also 'dream-generators'.  I'd take my chances with one, especially if she had those hot, big lips and was good at sucking.       

I love being in a good place: Loving my response to a nosey kinkster:Have had 2 monogamous unions with 2 kinky odd balls I have had to put the odd balls back in the fish tankPersonally in a good place, received awards for my service literally, networking, working on my health and wellbeing, great hair, jogging again to loose some weight but average size so easy tone up and my bum looks great already just chiseling around average meat so all goodHey, my response is pretty chilled I must beI am sure you are knee deep in honest pussy all the bestC      

My dom gave me a list of topics to talk about.  So here goes... Random stuff you may or may not find interesting about me:   - When asked to classify myself, I'd describe myself as a nudist who is a bit kinky.  My parents were both nudists and I grew up in a household were clothing was optional.  Around the house, being naked is no big deal...  So for example, I am naked right now... - Several people have asked me here if I've been officially "collared".  I'm going to have to say that I haven't officially been collared.  However I'm not 100% percent sure I know what exactly is involved in that.  I do have a dog collar which I wear when my dom requests it,  Since this collarspace afterall, he has requested that I wear it whenever I am here, so I am wearing it now...  My collar is a simple dog collar that we picked up one day at PetsMart... - Am I a "painslut"? No, I am not a painslut.  In no way do I like be beaten, whipped or punched...  I do like rough sex, but that generally involves being tied up, having my hair pulled, and being choked... - Am I a "gang bang slave". No, I am not.   That said, I have had fantasies about it (see my previous journal entries), but I am not interested in pursuing that.  That said, I have had sex with two guys at once.  But that was a long time ago... - Is my dom interested in sharing me with other men.  The answer to that is no.  However there is one exception.  There is a one couple that we've known for years that we feel safe with. On occasion we will swap partners with them.  - Why am I on collarspace?  I'm here because my dom wants me to be here.  That alone is reason enough enough.  He thinks it would be a good idea to have me interact with all kinds of people here.  My dom reads everything I write and everything that I recieve.  In particular, I think it amuses him to see how I interact with men who only view me as fuckmeat. So there you have it, todays journal entry from naked subMegan.  Hope everyone has a great Sunday and I look forward to reading your responses. subMeghan

A Master takes away his slave's free use of time. Her time no longer belongs to her. She rises in the morning when instructed, and her use of time is at Master's will. She will work at what Master orders when he tells her. If she works outside the home, she is expected back at a certain time, her time belongs to him. When she eats, sleeps, perhaps uses the bathroom, when she does her chores, and when and if she has leisure is not for her to decide. Her time is not her own. If Master calls her to his side, she goes, no matter what she was doing. Her time is not her own, it belongs to Master. When you take away a woman's free use of her time, it no longer belongs to her, but becomes Master's time. I think there is no more powerful psychological experience than that of not owning your own time. Physicality: The experience of one's body as one's own. A slave's body does not belong to her. She is instructed on how to wear her hair, whether and how to use makeup, when to be clothed, and in what clothing, and when to be naked, how to care for her skin and nails. She can be stripped and inspected at will. She is denied free access to her own pleasure. She may not masturbate without permission. She may not climax without permission. She may not take irin for a headache without permission. She has sex when, how, and with whom her Master decides. She must bear whatever pains are inflicted upon her. She has no right to say "no" to the use of her body. After a time, her psychological reality becomes "my body no longer belongs to me." When you take away a woman's free use and handling of her own body, it no longer belongs to her, but become's Master's property. It is a powerful shock that first moment a woman recognizes that her body is no longer her own. Privacy: We free beings are used to the right to privacy. We close bathroom doors. We perform our ablutions in private. We would prefer to be left alone when we are ill, perhaps, or cranky, or not looking our best. We hide the evidence of our menses: flush the tampons, wrap the used napkins. We take our deepest fears, our most intense angers, our illogical primitive emotions and hide them from others, lest they turn from us in disgust or fear. We note our dreams in morning and consign them to the dream ether from whence they come; they disturb us and we wish to forget. A slave has no right to any of that privacy. There is no private space in which a slave can hide from Master, either literally or metaphorically. She may not close a bathroom door. If Master wants her to experience her lack of privacy, he may choose to intrude upon her bathroom functions. She may not hide her fears, her angers, her emotions, for when Master intuits she is astir, he will be in her face until she opens them to him. When a woman has no privacy, neither physical nor psychological, she no longer owns her space, her external or internal space. When you take away a woman's privacy, she no longer owns her internal or external space, her very essence belongs to Master. We can see why this takes time. It takes time because one must repeatedly, consistently, doggedly take ownership of a woman's time and body, and strip her of the right to privacy. And it's no wonder there is resistance along the way: it's not only willfulness that must be addressed, but resistence out of fear when a woman begins to be transformed, when she feels her ownership of her time eroded, her ownership of her body stripped away, her privacy gone. A woman enters this process a free agent, comfortably familiar to herself, and is truly transformed. She becomes something more beautiful then she ever thought possible, she becomes a slave

Master's WritingsWho am I? Master's Writings Who am I? Last week, someone asked me who I was as a Dominant. Of course I could give a quick answer, but I found that I needed and wanted to go deeper. I found I wanted to reconfirm my values and challenge myself to really define why I do this and who I want to be in my role. If I am willing to ask a sub to be genuine in their role, then I can do no less than look deeper and find a better answer? So here goes.... Who am I? As a person, I feel I am knowledgeable, intelligent, fun and outgoing. I have traveled extensively, love exploring food (I’m quite the accomplished cook), movies, music, sports. I’d do anything for my two kids, and I have two golden retrievers, whom I love almost as much as my kids. As a Dominant, I have worked to craft myself as a knowledgeable, caring, always learning and growing Master, who cares deeply about the experience of my submissive(s). In fact, the experience of my sub is very important to me and I put attention and care into each session. As a Dominant, I observe everything, do and say everything for a specific purpose, and believe that the best dynamics are a blend of vanilla and kink. And even though I have 10 years of experience in the lifestyle, I still make mistakes, but I require it of myself to learn from them every time. I believe that truly meaningful play is significantly more mental than physical. It requires a mental connection between individuals that can only come when there is understanding, honesty, trust, and communication. I know that the better I understand my partners, the richer play can become. That is why I prefer to spend time to get to know a person, understand needs, wants desires long before we initiate a scene. My kinks and fetishes are far ranging, some listed on my profile are merely passing interests while others are core to my enjoyment. Together the list is all over the place and I expect that it always will. Life is short, why not try it all? Yet, I know that no one person will perfectly match all my tastes. Please know that I take limits very seriously because I would never force another to participate in anything they held up as a limit. Trust is built upon respect and without respect for limits there can be no trust. Within the lifestyle, I seek so many things (not in any particular order) – experiences, connection, partners, playmates, fun, intensely beautiful moments, relationships that reach a depth the average person die from envy, and so very much more. I have seen Dominants who are just bullies, who use their title as a license to be domineering or worse. This is NOT me. I dominate for a purpose - to inspire, create experiences and help others achieve things they never thought possible and yes for myself as well. I am Dominant because I believe it is my true nature. I felt it from the first moment I assumed the role and have continue to feel that way ever since. Yet even so, I must continue to work to improve and deepen my understanding of myself in the lifestyle, in the role and as a person, so after all this deep dive, I am grateful for that someone who ask me this important question last week. It made me think.

The treat She popped on a playlist and smiled the whole time she got herself ready for this dinner date.  It was a real treat to be taken out to their favourite foody pub and she was tingling in anticipation of being out and about in public with him. She left her hair to dry naturally in soft waves and applied minimal makeup as she decided on a rberry plunge bra and matching stretchy lace panties.  She eased them on, over the suspender belt already in place, and then slipped the thin jersey dress over her head.  She looked in the mirror.  “Perfect,” she thought to herself.  The ditsy floral dress clung to her breasts and waist and the v-neck was deep enough to display a good amount of cleavage, before flaring out loosely over her ample hips and arse to stop just above her knee.  She pulled on her leather knee-high boots, grabbed her jacket and bag and skipped downstairs to wait for the door. He arrived not long after and she let him in.  “I have a surprise for you,” he said with a grin, holding his closed fist out.  She smiled broadly and put out her hand.  When he opened his fist something warm and heavy dropped into her palm.  “Go and put it in,” he ordered quietly.  She looked at the in her hand.  It was a shiny metal sphere, about the size of a large marble.  She let it roll around her palm and felt some kind of weight shift inside the smooth sphere. A little later, as she climbed into his car, she felt the weight shift inside her cunt and the anticipation of the evening ahead flared in her belly.  Before starting the car she felt him look her over and she became very aware that her breath quickened under his gaze.  He didn’t say anything, but placed his hand on her right knee and let it slide upwards, pushing the fabric of her dress ahead of it.  When her stocking-tops were exposed he briefly traced his finger over the soft flesh of her inner thigh, forcing her to part her knees.  “Hungry?” he asked.  “Very,” she replied, a little breathlessly.  Satisfied, he started the car and they set off. The pub was located in a small village a short drive from her home.  One or two locals were sat at the bar, but the restaurant area was dimly lit and virtually empty.  He walked her over to the corner end of the bench that ran along one wall - the end nearest to the small fire – and motioned for her to sit at right angles to him at the square table.  He had a good view of the room and the archway to the bar, whilst she was mostly hidden by the wooden dividing panels which were spaced along the length of the bench's back. She settled onto the cushion covering the wooden bench, removed her jacket and flexed her shoulders against the back rest.  A waitress brought two menus over and took their drinks order from him.  He picked up one of the menus but didn’t pass it to her.  Without thinking she reached out her hand for the other menu, still resting on the edge of the table.  She ged sharply in surprise when his hand flashed across the table and firmly grabbed her wrist, her fingertips still hovering above the menu.  “No choosing for you tonight,” he said.  The waitress had stopped uncertainly a few steps away from the table, holding a tray with their drinks on it.  She seemed unsure about whether to approach or whether she would be intruding.  They both turned to smile at her and he released her wrist, letting her return her hands to her lap.  They both thanked the waitress as she placed the drinks on the table and then she left quickly, without asking if they were ready to order.  Again, he studied the menu, occasionally flicking his eyes over to look at her as if matching the food to how she looked.  She felt her cheeks warm under his gaze and realised she needed to squirm in her seat to release some of the heat she felt in her belly and cunt.  The shifting marble inside her gave her no respite from the arousal that was building; instead she felt her nipples stiffen inside her bra and she had to open her mouth to return her breathing to normal.  He smiled behind the menu before closing it and placing it back on the edge of the table, waiting for the waitress to notice that they were ready to order. It wasn’t long before the waitress was standing at their table again, small notepad in hand.  She looked directly at the woman and asked, “What would you like?”  The woman blushed and rocked forward on the bench.  Her mouth opened slightly, as if she was about to speak, but she turned her head to the man instead.  The waitress frowned slightly – confused rather than annoyed – and turned to the man as he began to speak.  “We’ll have the sticky barbeque ribs for two, followed by one seabass with new potatoes and green salad, and one ribeye with fries.  MR for the steak and oil and vinegar for the salad please.” Finally, they were left to talk with no likelihood of interruptions for a while at least.  Their conversation flowed easily.  They spoke about work, friends (mutual and individual) and their plans for the next few weeks.  As they spoke she grew more and more aware of his gaze.  She could almost feel it gliding down her neck, over her collarbone and plunging between her breasts.  Despite their everyday, normal conversation she felt the heat from his eyes as they slid over her breasts, down her belly and she imagined them settling over her clit.  His hands were cled, elbows resting on the table as he spoke to her.  He didn’t touch her throughout their convers ation, yet she still felt her arousal swelling inside her.  Her voice became lower and breathy as she talked to him. She found herself leaning forward and turning towards him as they talked; her neckline gaping for his gaze.  She hadn’t realised, but her knees had spread beneath the table.  An unconscious way of allowing herself to press her clit against the thin cushion as she leant forwards.  All of a sudden, his hand rested warmly just above her knee and patted.  She instantly sat up straight and, moments later, the waitress set a large plate of ribs and two finger bowls on the table. They ate the sticky ribs without much talking.  The silence and having to eat with her fingers seemed to shrink her world to a private bubble around their table.  She felt primal.  Sucking meat from the bone, sticky juices staining her lips, she was very aware of the fact that her nipples were now hard enough for her to feel them rubbing inside the bra she was wearing and her clit was screaming at her to be rubbed harder and more directly than on a soft seat cushion.  He looked carefully at her as they ate.  Watched her body perform it’s little rocking motions in the seat, watched her green eyes darken and her tongue lick sauce from her lips.  He let her eat two more ribs and then told her to sit back and have a drink.  He finished the remaining ribs while she sat there, almost panting, as she fought to control herself.  He judged that she had got a good handle on herself by the time he had finished eating so he dried her fingers for her, after she had used the finger bowl, sliding the soft napkin along each finger to the tip.  She looked at him as he dried her fingers, the gentle tug of the napkin on each finger sending a shiver to her spine that caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.  Her eyes pleaded with him, tried to convey to him how close she was to wantonly climbing onto his lap and grinding her cunt ont

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!

As for about me and who I am. Well most of it is in the profile.   But I am a skilled maker with slightly above skills in welding, metal working, woodworking, plastics, molding, 3d printing, cnc laser cutting, chainmail weaving, scene prop special effects, and a few other random skills.   I also have a high level of skill in photography, video production (both shooting and editing), audio production, photo retouching and manipulation as well as graphic design and media production. (BS in media production) I also dabble in fashion design with a strong interest in fetish ware. Currently teaching myself leather garment sewing, as well as latex/rubber creation. Been playing with bootware and am designing custom heels for high heel boots.   I'm looking for that one female artist who can transform me into a woman. As in post op grs, breast implants, plastic surgery, FFS etc.   In return, my skills and talents would be at her service,  including making a full dungeon with all the toys one could dream of. As I look more fem I would have no problem being a cam girl for her and after I am fully transitioned I would gladly be a beta dom, under her.

Let’s contemplate the issue of energy when it come to sex among equals. As a rule nature is perceived as male and female, positive and negative, dry and wet, light and dark, cold hot; you get the idea. However if we add to these categories the fact that there are many ways in which these elements can manifest it becomes apparent that in nature these concepts are very fluid. There are many ways in which gender is conceptualize by cultures and more varied indeed is the manner in which gender roles are characterized. When it comes to love among equal genders these categories manifest but from the standpoint of strength which is the value of the male realm. Passive, submissive, or any other adjectives given to the bottom are but description of how the male strength choses to emerge in a male/male relationship; the same way when we use other adjectives to characterize tops. Any word and denomination is constraining and the truth is that there are many ways to be a bottom and many ways to be a top and the fluidity of these energies are always in a state of flux.  As a rule the male strength is always present regardless of the role we play in an intimate relationship. The strength and force of a male grip either using the hand, the mouth the anus, or the phallus is still a manifestation of that universal force that permeates all of us as we engage each other’s energy within the chosen role. That is a point of departure; there can not be a top without a bottom or vice versa. It is as I said before the natural order of things. No one can denny the fact that we are relating our energies in a sexual encounter as a male to male proposition but in a different degree of intensity which makes the encounter fulfilling and meaningful. The organs involved speak to the degree of energy engaged and no one can forget the fact that there is a male exchange of energies which is mutually fulfilling when done right.

switzerland is limited. by what? yes we have a healty system, good finances, gorgeous places, multicultural food and here its very clean. but our bdsm comunity is....small, only 2 principal places lausanne on the center switzerland and zurich on the north. most of the kinkster are spreaded around the country not knowing other ways than classified website. rare knows fetlife.. no one know website like this one. if youre lucky and do shibari or even soft bdsm you can find youre partner or even more. but if youre like me with a lot of kinks, more passionate, curious and creative, your unfortunate... you will need to be very pacient or...search outside... then the only way is to find person who can relocate themself, and this type of person are rare. because a lot want your money/scam, others prefer only online, or even you can find fantaisist person searching only to excite themself and when things turn real they stop. thats tiring and difficult to filter all this mess, ive been thinking for a long time but for me switzerland is not a good place for bdsm, theres a lot of countries better like USA, germany, france but only in paris, ive been thinking if asian country have better community too, like china, korea or even japan.   i hope someday i will find someone diversified like me to like a total lifestyle.

I thought I knew what was wrong. But I saw a specialist and they talked medical blah blah and so for a few weeks I've been walking around thinking I have a rare cancer. Tests were ordered, biopsies taken, more specialists, antibiotics prescribed. I started mental checklists so if it's worse case scenario I get shit done before I'm not capable. I cried a lot. The not knowing of so many important things that might mean everything. Or nothing. Tests coming back inconclusive, waiting on next steps. It's a lot to add to your agenda since the world doesn't stop for a new crisis. It's tiring to be this stressed.  After all of this, the tests, the time, the tears, that first specialist agreed with my original diagnosis. If they would have listened to me on that first visit I'd be healed by now. Fuck silver linings, I'm pissed.  Not out of the woods just yet, one more specialist to go. But it's looking good enough that I can be uppity about the whole situation. Still, fingers crossed, okay? Thanks. 

It was a typical Saturday morning. The normal routine of getting showered clothed and ready for a morning date with “A” at the local coffee shop. The brisk cooler weather was a welcoming site after the warmer summer we had. The bustling streets seemed more packed than normal. “A” smiled as we walked along the narrow streets and windows of the shops. The vibrant colors of the latest fall fashions luring us into each store. Pretty tops and long flowing dresses and skirts. “A” took my hand and with a big smile led me into the packed store. Making small talk as she danced around each display finger tips dancing across the fabric. Making jokes and comments with her to pick all ready through the door. “A” finally opened the door peer her head out and looking to the sides to make sure no one was watching.

 KinkyPear