Hello all, I want to take a moment to give out some tips to cathing my interest with your messages. Some of these are gonna sound bitchy but take them to heart they will help you not only with me but probably every woman on this site.  1) In less than 24 hours I have recieved nearly 30 pages of messages. If I don't get to you immediately when you send a message, do not spam me with stupid are you there, pay attention to me, come here slut, and so on messages, that only slows me down and pisses me off and i will most likely just block you. 2) Do not write a thesis paper as a first message. I have 30 pages of messages to read and If your first message to me is more than a paragraph I am not investing the time into you.  3) On the opposite side of above, don't just say hey, or whats up. You need to catch attention with your first message. Also don't just tell me to look at your profile. If your message catches my eye I will go look on my own. 4) Don't send me a dick pic without asking first, come on its 2023 women shouldnt have to say this anymore. I am submissive but all your cocks look the same and I don't care to pretend otherwise lol 5) This might just be me and not all women but I do not want to immediately jump to some other messenger. All thousand of you who have messaged me today want to use a different app, I don't want to have 1000 apps, and if i cant keep up here alone why do you think 1000 apps will be faster? If we click and get to know each other i might move to an app, until then if you dont want to chat here why bother being here? Ok, rant over. The jist is guys, women here get absolutely flooded, dont be an ass about it. And if you think you deserve my sole undivided attention after one message get over yourself, if thats how it worked the first guy who messaged me would be the only one i talked too and where would that leave all the rest of you?

Yeah, I thought I would get back here sooner.. shit happens. Started getting all my medical stuff going this year.  Ugghhh. I am not looking for oral anything. My concerns this year involve going after the plastic surgeon who f'd up my reconstruction so severely it impacts the rest of my life and sue the f'er. I have to have what he did fixed. Firmly believe he shit on me because I am a medicaid patient. So, my focus is more personal health, at the same time, I have both art and print on demand stuff I am doing, my gardening is just picking up and getting busy at home, and I have an audio podcast I need to get going. On ssi at 560 a month sucks dirty dick. If you want to be submissive to me, you have to have something to offer in return, not necessarily money, but say vanilla services that help me. Otherwise, I am busy as fuck making the next 20 years of my life better.   As I usually find my relationships in person doing stuff, make it good to get my attention, or I won't waste my time. Approaching me about your needs is stupid. Lola the Iron Mistress

As promised, here is a copy of your BDSMTest result with ID uZkZThzx100% Degradee100% Rope bunny100% Submissive99% Voyeur93% Exhibitionist92% Pet92% Slave85% Masochist80% Experimentalist70% Primal (Prey)59% Non-monogamist30% Vanilla9% Brat4% Primal (Hunter)0% Daddy/Mommy0% Rigger0% Ageplayer0% Brat tamer0% Degrader0% Dominant0% Little0% Master/Mistress0% Owner0% Sadist0% SwitchYou can also view it online at https://bdsmtest.org/r/uZkZThzx?lang=EN

Keeping in mind that as soon as I saw that he had written before, I rolled my eyes and made a choice to respond, knowing how this was gonna go, and since I'm in a mood, it was slightly amusing and I almost chuckled when he did exactly what I expected him to do. Which I'm sure would have pissed him off worse... I received this today from someone listed as a Dom, who had contacted me well over a year ago, then again last December. Just 4 months ago, but he's once again completely forgotten that he wrote me before, that he was asked to do something then disappeared, forgot that he had written the second time and was REMINDED, and asked if he had done it yet, but wanted me to commit to being interested (in someone who had ghosted once already and hadn't done anything he was asked to do, which was to read and EDUCATE HIMSELF, not do anything that benefited ME, but instead forgot even speaking to me) and now he's written me again. With the same message as the first two times. 3/6/22 6:48 AM "Good morning, Miss, Hope you are doing well I am wondering if per chance you could possibly be open to a 64 going on 34 year old sub and iring slave located in North Aurora, west of chicago who is intelligent openminded kinky adventurous fun and selfassured about who and what he is? Most of all one who seeks a true Owner and Domme who is a totally devoted to you like me? It is so hard to find a genuine and suitable Domme and Owner in this lifestyle I hope you find me to be exceptional seems like we want the very same thingfor You to take total control of memind body and soul And what you depict your profile is quite interesting and just what I know I need Although my profile says I am a Dom, I have come to realize I am a stone sub I have the ability desire and wherewithal to host and come visit and ultimately relocate should it come to that I travel your way quite a bit on business But most of all I would love to just have the honor and privilege to get to know you you seem so genuine Hope to hear from you"   This is what I wrote him just now. I think it was pretty mild, all things considered. "angeldmort on 3/6/22 at 7:20 AM: Considering that we had a conversation not 4 months ago and you've already forgotten that, I guess not And you obviously didn't read my profile THIS time, either So youve spammed me twice, I let you off the hook last time and had a conversation anyway, and now you are back having done the same exact thing, so you learned jack shit last time and are telling me either how forgettable I am, or how incredibly forgetful and lazy you are Either way, buhbye" and his entirely predictable reply - "sorry Had I known you were such a cross, unpleasant, downer, negative and selfcentered personI would not have contacted you in the first placenot at all the type of Domme or person I want in my life Who wants to take the time to read all the gibberish anyway Thanks and buhbye to you, too"   Now, this is not at ALL even remotely uncommon. This is the Standard Operating Procedure for guys contacting women via the internet for the purpose of getting the attention they want. They bury us in compliments, make grand sweeping statements about their desire for a relationship, and when they don't get it, usually because of their own screwups, they immediately do a 180 and get verbally abusive. (Or if in person, physically abusive/violent/deadly.) And in this case, since it's a BDSM centered site, he stated he wanted a Domme "to take total control of me mind body and soul." But apparently that did not extend to actually asking him to DO anything. Even if it makes him better able to get what he wants.   When I asked him back in December if he had read any of the books I recommended to him, based on his complete lack of submissive experience and his stated desire to get some, he replied "Quite honestlyI have not But if You feel You are truly interested in me, I will gladly do so as I know that would make me better prepared to be the best I can be for you should it come to that And that would be my entire focus"   Do you see the problem? A total stranger on the internet. We have exchanged a few emails. That's it. I have to profess my TRUE interest in him, without knowing him beyond what his shown so far in this extremely limited way. After he has already failed to do the most basic of things - - actually READ my profile, which has a couple things in it specifically to let me know if someone read it, right at the very tip top where it's easy to see - written a profile that actually reflects who is is, instead of one that he thinks will get him laid as a Dom - write an actual email to me instead of sending me the copy/pasted message he sends every Domme - write a message to me that doesn't lie about having read my profile and "seems like we want the very same thing" - stick around in a conversation HE had initiated - done the only thing I actually asked of him, which was to read a book I thought would help him with his search - be honest about not wanting to do this, like a fucking adult, instead of ghosting like a little bitch - keep track of who he contacts so he doesn't insult my intelligence with another copy/paste message that just tells me I'm not interesting enough for him to remember Yeah. I'm gonna be SO interested. In blocking him from contacting me again. But he feels I should give that, before he has to give ANYTHING. He should get payment up front, before he begins the work of becoming someone in who a Domme COULD be interested in. Because ... He wants it? And being female, I should want to hand it to him on a silver platter.   And the second that is pointed out to him - the first time I explain that no, he has screwed up, and screwed HIMSELF over with his own actions, and lack of actions, and lack of basic effort on his own behalf, more than once? I am "a cross, unpleasant, downer, negative and selfcentered person." Because that's how a "submissive" responds to correction from a Dominant Woman? Or it seems to be, based on how this goes, over and over and over. No recognition of personal responsibility for his mistakes, no apology for ghosting, no appreciation of being given a reply despite the obvious lack of effort, no self-awareness at all that might lead to him fixing his mistakes, changing his course, and possibly finding what he claims to want. Just the immediate knee-jerk flip to insults and abuse. But hey, at least he didn't call me old, fat and ugly. That's the usual guy response to getting rejected.   And again, this is standard stuff. This is the main kind of interaction women have on dating sites. This is the main kind of interaction Dommes have on BDSM sites. It may as well be the same exact person writing me these, over and over. As the song says - "Only the names will change." This is not submission. This is self-entitlement. This is toxic masculinity. This is a fragile male ego. And THIS is what is standing between you and the Domme you want to kneel to. THIS is what we see and expect when you write us before reading our profile, when you send us a generic email that could have been sent to someone else, when you don't fill out your profile, when you want us to be "interested" before having an actual conversation and letting us get to know you. I know it sees like work, but honestly, without it, you are asking for a handout, and we know that hand will probably turn into

[Just a little piece of erotic fiction (FICTION) I’ve got rambling around in my head] "What Daddy wants, Daddy gets: Our daily “on display” routine"," I’m not a “little”, and my Dom who I live with is not into age play BUT loves the nickname Daddy.  We live together in his fairly large ranch house that has a large 10 foot wide 7 feet tall picture window in the family room that faces our back yard.  We have a private fence, but surrounding houses have a 2nd floor so it’s visible to many anyway. Our morning routine is one of my favorites - I wake up 1/2 hour before daddy does to make some coffee and attend to a few things before he wakes up.  It’s my responsibility to prep my pussy to be really and willing to accept whatever he decides to stick in there form the minute he wakes up. When it IS time for him to wake up I’m his human alarm clock and so make waking very very pleasant!  Coffee made the way he wants, appropriate clothes laid out and prepared for his day (work or home on the weekends), and me naked kneeling beside the bed at about the middle of his torso.  I get to be creative with how i awaken him, which is a delight for me as I love to be creative!! This morning I chose to give soft kitten-kisses on his arm that’s closest to the edge, and it gently wakes him up after a few minutes.  “Good morning, Kitten,” he says softly in almost a whisper.  “Good morning, Daddy.” is my standard reply.   “And how are my Kitten’s nipples feeling after their treatment yesterday?” he asks with a knowing grin.  “They are throbbing from yesterdays suck-fest, goodness they are tender, almost raw from your gnawing on them for so long!  I love it, thank you Daddy.” As he sits up to roll out of bed, I have slippers ready where his feet will land.  He swings his legs out, I guide them into each slipper, and he spreads his legs wide displaying his dominance over me with his gorgeous cock and lovely man-bush at it’s base.  He stands and I hold open his robe to slip on. Before we even begin to move into the kitchen For breakfast, he runs his hand over my hard nipples, flicking them to make them harder - of course today it’s 10 times more intense because of yesterday’s activities.  I gasp and all that does is make him pinch and rub harder, dammit!  He knows he has my attention, and then slides his hand down to my pussy to ensure it’s wet and ready, which it always is but I love that his fat fingers probes me “just to be sure.” After a quiet breakfast comes my second-favorite routine and that is the daily display of Daddy’s living fuck toy.  I follow him into our family room that has no window coverings and assume my assigned position.  “On your back legs wide on the fucking bench,  Kitten.” And I dutifully do as told.  My head is nearest the window, my pussy the other direction and he begins to fuck me and twist my nipples harder than yesterday - I begin to simultaneously cry and howl as I’m getting wetter from his invasion of my slit. I tilt my head back to look out the window (upside down view) and I see 2 neighbors peeking out of their  houses’ 2nd story's that face our family room window to watch with backs face the back of our house.  Earl and Stephen have their pants down or off, and I see them both stroking their wieners in response to todays live-action. It’s this morning ritual that makes me blush when I see them in the neighborhood or in the grocery store...none of their wives know, or at least aren’t saying they know, and it feels like a dirty secret (which it is!!).  After Daddy has filled me with a huge load, he texts Ralph and Stephen to come on over, I’m wet and juicy and ready for them. Stephen is busy and has to run, but Earl - who is retired - replies he’s coming over.  Earl arrives in short order, chats with Daddy in the family room as I’m spread eagle and dripping, making a pool of my juice and Daddy’s jiz.  Daddy retreats to the bedroom to get dressed, and leaves Earl free to do as Daddy did and cum in my pussy.  (The rule with neighbors is they may come over and do to me what Daddy did, which means they had to pay attention and also keeps them in check with my body-boundaries Daddy has in place. Earl retired “young” at only 58, but his cock works just as well as a 26 year old’s.  He immediately enters my nasty wet pussy and shoves his dick HARD in me, so hard he jolts the table and I slide a little further away which amuses Daddy who peeked out from the bedroom.  Earl takes his damn time, fucks me hard for 15 straight minutes, then pulls out and spews his jiz all over my bottom and floor which I’ll have to clean up later. Left to clean up from the festivities, I hop to it before it dries.   I wish Earl a good day, and Daddy is ready to leave and I wish him the same. Wonder what tomorrow’s activity will be?

I’m funny, strong, sick and alone. I wear a sold-thick mask. Only i choose who will get to see my truth and when. Today and tonight are hard. I don’t like where I am or how I am. I feel desperate for dick for a, tongue even teeth. My neck is naked and breasts - nipples are tingling . Even fat there are places you can feel bones. My ass is high and wide easy to spread and enter. Go slow so we both feel you break through that first sphincter- oh so good, you’ll decide when to do that again. The feeling is pleasure but also demonstrates your power over me. Put me on my belly, lay me on my back, cl my hands and ride me like I’m a horse- hold me down whisper into my ear, bite my skin and enjoy me, long and hard, mmmm. By now my cunt has created a puddle of my juices. Lips are wide gapping open waiting to be entered, i moan as you hit my back wall and I clench as i cum and again. You hit my crevicx, oh my breath pushes out of me. I am cuming again and again. Vagina spasms over and over. I clench down and hold you. You look confused, i laugh and let you go. You turn me over and we kiss passionately you reach up and put a hand on my throat, a bit harder as i slip into subspace. You let go, my eyes are glassy and I smile slowly and quietly.  Mmm i pur. You turn me on my side, you insert a dildo into one hole and yourself into the other, fuck me until you cum - you stay a minute and the cum slides out of me as you do. We sleep facing and touching each other. What do you think?

Maintenance.... If yall do not have an updated profile how do you expect Me to trust you?  Your age, location, etc would do well to be updated prior to contacting Me.  Collar updates regularly enough and if not an update within your profile you can certainly update your JOURNAL to proper information. If we set a time for speaking, meeting, doing and you don't show up and no reason given...what is the point?  For those of you who have My personal information, chivalry is not dead.  If you are not smart enough to figure out how to apologize, what is the point?  With that said, I am not in the habit of opening closed doors.  What is the point? Remember, VERIFICATION.  You don't get close to Me and My home without exposing yourself to Me.  BIGGER and Better! I would love a mechanic type of person from time to time.  I'm a vehicle enthusiast and have some knowledge but not nearly anything to brag about. I would love to rebuild an engine side by side as project.  Last year I sold My beautiful vintage truck.  Sigh. I DO so love MUSCLE cars though just about anything that comes acrosss on Mecum will do.  To have ones breath taken away by the pull of a powerful engine is mightily exciting.  The first car I ever drove was when I was knee high and it was a lovely Mercades.  Then onto the Jaguar...  My first car was a custom 500 with a suicide knob...and boy could that baby go! That was the car of My first speeding ticket!  I was crusing down Interstate 93 doing 120, when I moved My hand away from the side rear view mirror and to My chargrin there was a state trooper, hot on My tail, lights flashing (no siren) just keeping pace with Me.  I won't forget that troopers face for the rest of My life.  He didnt make eye contact and just said, "I have a ticket for you and you will need to pay it by this time or show up in court.  If you show up in court, I will tell the judge that you were doing WELL OVER 80 MILES PER HOUR and you will have your license taken away."  I paid the ticket and got a radar dectector.  lol Still, I have a relative hot spot for all things mechanical.  This brings Me to My love of steel...but THAT is another topic for another day!      

Goodness I blocked two guys before breakfast today. I want a slave near me who drives so we can go enjoy munch evenings together and fetish clubs too. Cinema and meals out. Because I am a Dominant Woman that is "usual" for me. I want someone easy on the eye so no older than 40 and single.   Not too much of a list I thought. But as many women everywhere comment on here, guys are not reading profiles= I copy/paste replies to avoid the monotony.    1. First guy was living in Germany 1 hour away he said. The point is he doesn't live near me in the UK. I lead so it was no. Pushy got him blocked.   2. Guy was 65 so I declined as late nights bring.on the moans from older guys= it's late/music is so loud etc. Not my thing so MY choice is the guy is a certain age bracket. Guy us pushy gets blocked.   They need to put NOTE to self Google what Woman Led Relationship is=the Woman Leads=ME.  3. The late entry to be blocked. Another free ProDomme seeker who doesn't accept a FLR is ME the Woman leads. Period. Accept that or get blocked. Simple.    

Who are You? Ladies,   Do not be afraid to call it out:  Manipulation-- Had a conversation with another dominant.  We're both romantic and,sapiosexual.  In the morning he wishedme "good morning." The next thing I knew, he wrote ,"if thats all it meant to you"   Yeah, that totally manipulative.  We had a conversation.  You didn't cross the Mason Dixon and save me from slavery.  Fantasy conversation: Homeboy starting talking about his cruise and staying a few day to spend time with me.   Who are you and what are you talking about about? Drive Thru Order: I want a woman to peg me.  (Has no clue who you are,but thinks you're a menu item.) There are a few ways to respond.  1) This isn't a drive thru.  Otherwise, you'd be  paying for your Happy Meal at window 2.  2) People in Hell want ice water.  Are you volunteering?. Home delivery:  Dude asked if I traveled to Vegas. "Yes, I travel, but I don't deliver.  I'm not pizza.  Call Uber Eats for front door delivery.      

Touch  I am sure I had sensory processing disorder as a kid. I totally remember crying all the time from some of the stuff my mom used to want me to wear, and I remember her just sitting there looking at me totally baffled trying to assure me it was the softest she could find. Or having to stop 15 times on a school field trip to sit on the floor in the middle of a museum and take off my shoes and pull up my socks because they kept shifting in my shoe and the seam was by my toe... I grew up in the NJ/NY area around Italians, and Jews, and Irish, and lots of "Old World Europeans" who at a minimum bear hugged and kissed one cheek, if not both, if not multiple times each time they greeted you.  I am in the Midwest now where they are a little more reserved.  I can't remember the last time I got a cheek kiss and most of the hugs are just side hugs... I still tend to crash in and hug anyone I know won't flip out from it though lol.  I miss those bear hugs!  Getting one now days is enough to bring tears to my eyes my body needs it so much! The chemical release in my brain is outside of my control! I need this.  Need.  Need like I need food, water, and shelter.  Studies during the pandemic have shown  am not alone in this, but my sensory processing issues probably make it a little extreme for me.  For years scientists have studies out hands and fingers, joints, skin, etc and their sense of touch, but recently they are becoming interested in a subset of touch sensitive nerves in the core regions of our body, such as the back, which have one been discovered.   *“This second type of sensory nerves send signals to areas of our brains that deal with emotional processing. They are most responsive to skin temperature and gentle, stroking touch. Observational studies find that when people are asked to caress their infant, or their romantic partner, they spontaneously use the slow stroking speeds that these nerve fibres prefer. This touch is subjectively perceived as pleasant; it calms and soothes us physiologically, reducing heart rate and buffering against the effects of stress. When stimulated, these nerves send signals via the spinal cord to the brain where they release a cascade of neurochemicals. One of the most notable chemicals among these is oxytocin, a hormone released by low-intensity skin stimulation such as hugs. Oxytocin is known to play important roles in social bonding, and can reduce stress and increase our tolerance to pain. The release of oxytocin during social interactions is context-dependent: only when a hug is wanted will the comforting and rewarding effects be felt. When touch is desired, the benefits are shared by both partners in the exchange.” This explains my desperate need and the reason I melt like a purring kitten when I get it and shut down like an angry Doberman when I don’t.  Take me from a culture that touched all the time, and in sensory processing issues, and then throw widowhood in a post-pandemic world… Touch me.  Don’t ever keep it from me.  I can’t be held responsible if you do.  Just saying…    excerpts from *From the Article “The science of hugging, and why we’re missing it so much during the pandemic by Susannah Walker”  

Looking for an experienced submissive (35+) who can host this weekend. I’m interested in connecting with someone who understands power exchange, communicates well, respaspects boundaries, and values consent and good hygiene. I’m not looking for endless chatting or time-wasters. If you’re mature, reliable, have previous experience, and are genuinely interested, send me a message introducing yourself, including your age, experience level, and availability. If we seem like a good match, we can discuss expectations and see if we’re compatible Interesting in doing pegging and foot worship I'll bring the strap!! dfw area or basically Fort Worth area

7/30/2024 7:35:16 PM Well, well, well... A very deep and sometimes disturbing subject indeed!   I've had the need to take some time off.  I've been duped and while it is hard to admit that a woman of My age and intellect has been bamboozeled, I'm comforted knowing that this type of thing happens to many of us, most especially when we are vulnerable due to life circumstances or state of mind and that I shall be wiser for the game played.     While undertaking the supreme challenge of finding a right sub for Myself, I happened upon the GREATEST ONLINE MINDFUCKER that ever was and I discovered he has been playing around here and Fet for over 20 plus years and at least 39 profiles on CollarSpace to date!!!   VICTORY!  I finally was able to find them out though I must say I was led on a not-so-merry chase full of intrigue and suspense, aliens, judges, the government, medical organizations and secret societies! LOL  It takes all sorts.   After all, I have to laugh at Myself and how vulnerable My state of mind must be to have gone down that rabbit hole. I would not change the knowledge gained through the experience though I am seriously butt sore.   NEEDLESS TO SAY, ANY DOMINANT SLAVE OR SUB MAN READING THIS WILL PROVE YOURSELF OR PASS ME BY.   I have a phone, pictures, telegraph, google chat, skype and every other possible means of communication and verification including but not limited to a car! We chat, we verify, we meet or part.  

The M/s lifestyle is an extreme form of structured relationship, and what makes it powerful is that it’s built on choice and consent. The surrender of power by the slave and the assumption of responsibility by the Master isn’t casual—it’s intentional, serious, and often lifelong. At its best, it creates a dynamic where both roles are deeply fulfilled: the Master gains purpose through leadership, structure, and control, while the slave gains purpose through service, clarity, and the comfort of being fully owned.   What stands out to me is that it magnifies truths about human connection that already exist in all relationships: people crave trust, guidance, being seen, and being valued. M/s strips away the pretense and makes those elements explicit, codified in rules, rituals, and expectations. It’s not easy—because maintaining authority and surrender 24/7 in a modern world takes enormous honesty, discipline, and commitment. But when it works, it creates a bond few other dynamics can match, one that is both practical and profoundly emotional.

It is only by enlarging the scope of one’s tastes and one’s fantasies, by sacrificing everything to pleasure, that the unfortunate individual called Man, thrown despite himself into this sad world, can succeed in gathering a few roses among life’s thorns” D.A.F. Marquis de Sade

This is a topic which I have had more than a few conversations with other Masters and slaves. So I have decided to post what I believe here and what my house believes. I know this is going to rub some of the Masters/Doms or Masters/doms the wrong way. But we here at the House Of G believe in telling the truth, regardless of the cost to ourselves. Having said this let me launch right into the topic of my posting. "Collar of consideration or under consideration collars" 1.     The first thing that comes to mind is that the Master who has placed a slave under consideration is having trouble deciding whether he wants this slave to be wearing his collar and is unable to decided if the slave should be a member of their house. 2.     The next possibility is that the Master wants to have his cake and eat it too. He wants the pleasure of controlling and using the slave, without making a commitment to the slave, thereby avoiding the responsibility of ownership. Both are fundamentally wrong. Either the slave is worthy or has the potential to be worthy of wearing the Masters collar or is not. If more time and communication is required, then the Master should do that. The undertaking of owning a slave requires that you know everything about that slave before placing your collar around their neck. If there is even the slightest of doubt or concern, then discuss your concerns with the slave. Collaring a slave is not something taken lightly. It is actually making a commitment that we and many others will agree is more serious than the wedding vows and in some cases more binding and lasting.   “The trust between Masters and Slaves is based on the same behavioral Rules that regulate social life within a herd: Those who have obtained a higher rank in the herd assume at the               same time the responsibility for the weaker members.” A Master should reveal to the slave what is expected of them if they wear the Masters collar and what their boundaries and duties will be. All of this should be discussed in great detail almost to ad nauseam. For many in this lifestyle it’s far easier to shed ones clothing and belongings than it is to open up and be revealing about your real desires. We call this being emotionally naked and it seems to be one of the hardest things that one of my slaves can learn. “I have accepted a collar.” 1. This is not dating in any vanilla sense. You may find a slave and initiate a conversation with them with the sole intention of putting the slave in your collar. Nothing is wrong with this. However, why would you, give the slave the initial upper hand in the relationship (before it even starts) with having the slave make the decision to either accept or reject your collar? By offering your collar to the slave and not waiting until the slave asks for it, has not the “Topping from the Bottom” already begun?   2. It is the Master who will structure, dictate, and control the parameters of the relationship not the slave. Hence it is the Master, not the slave, who will really do the bulk of the work in making the relationship successful or not. 3. The slave has a simple, yet complex duty ... please the desires and will of the Master. The slave does what it is told, how it is told, when it is told, without hesitation, remorse or embarrassment.  4. In reality, it is the slave who should offer themselves to the Master for enslavement and collaring. NOT the other way around. You're not seeking the slave to "take home to your mother." You're not seeking them to place an engagement ring on their finger. While that may happen at some point, it is not the primary goal. The goal is to help the slave become the best slave it can be and to guide them to that end.  5. You want that slave, kneeling, naked at your feet, ready and willing to serve you with every fiber of their being to satisfy and please your desires.  I have never offered a collar to a slave. I was blessed to have a lifestyle couple with many years of experience act as my mentors when I first entered this lifestyle, and along the way I have had the opportunity to work with and meet some great Masters, who have all pitched in and helped with my education and mindset. But the main thing I have learned is the differences between the structure of a vanilla relationship and the structure of the Master/slave relationship. The commitment of a slave is on a whole different level than that of a vanilla relationship. And because the slave made it of their own free will and with the knowledge that they were surrendering all of themselves to the Master.  This bond between Master and slave is unlike any other currently known. Think about it, the Master offers a collar to the slave. The slave accepts it. Then later if the relationship or some aspect doesn't go as the slave desires, you've already given them a way out. But if they have to offer themselves to the Master, what they are saying is that they are ready to give the Master their all and that means 100% of themselves.  So let me end this by saying that the slave’s submission is not a gift. There submission is who they are and what they are. And if it is a “gift”, then the slave has certain expectations already that again reverts back to vanilla dating, that their charms (subtly translated sexuality) is something to be held in high esteem and treated as such. Yes, you can love and care for them. But their sexuality is yours and for your pleasure first. If at any point they feel that their "gift" is not that treasured by the Master, you again have given them an easy exit or even much worse a means of "topping from the bottom."   

On Memorial Day and the Cost of Everything It is Memorial Day weekend and I am sitting in my home doing the math that everyone I know is also doing, the specific and dispiriting arithmetic of gas prices against destination against what is left after the bills, and arriving at the same answer everyone else is arriving at: we are staying home. Again. The freedom that this holiday is nominally about feeling somewhat theoretical when the cost of driving anywhere meaningful has become its own small act of financial courage. I want to be clear that I am not unaware of what this day is actually for. I hold that with genuine respect. But I am also a mother of two boys who wanted to do something, anything, that felt like a holiday, and the gap between what I wanted to give them and what the current state of the world permits is sitting on me today with more weight than usual. Everything costs more. Everything. The casual ease of loading the boys into a car and driving somewhere that feels like summer, the small luxuries that make an ordinary Monday into a memory, all of it has been quietly repriced into something that requires calculation rather than spontaneity. I find this exhausting in the specific way that financial friction always exhausts me, not because I cannot manage it but because I should not have to manage it alone, and I do, and days like today make that aloneness more visible than usual. Which brings me to the fantasy, because this is also that kind of space, and the fantasy is not elaborate. It does not require Greece or a villa or anything that could not exist in my own home with the right person in it. I imagine waking up to someone who has already been awake for an hour, who has already thought about this day and what it should contain and has moved quietly through the early morning making it real. The kitchen already holding the smell of something good. The boys' day already considered and provided for, the small things that make children feel that a day is special, the particular attention to what they love that communicates someone has been thinking about them specifically. I imagine being handed my coffee exactly right and being told, not asked, that today I have nothing to manage. That it has been handled. That my only instruction for the day is to be present and comfortable and let the holiday actually feel like one. We would not need to go anywhere expensive. The backyard transformed by someone who understands that atmosphere is created by attention rather than budget. Good food prepared with care, the kind of effort that communicates love in the most practical language available. The boys absorbed and happy, their holiday delivered to them by someone who considered what they specifically would enjoy, not a generic child but these two particular boys with their particular enthusiasms and their particular humor, someone who has paid enough attention to know the difference. And me, in the middle of all of it, actually resting. Actually present without also being the logistics coordinator and the entertainment director and the person holding every thread simultaneously. Sitting in the sun in something pretty with a cold drink that appeared without my asking for it, watching my children have a good day that someone else made possible, feeling for once on a holiday like the holiday includes me rather than being produced by me. That is the whole fantasy. Its simplicity is the point. Instead I will do what I always do, which is make the best of what is available through the force of my own creativity and the particular determination of a mother who refuses to let her children feel the weight of what is missing. We will make it good. We will find the celebration inside the limitations, because that is what I do, and I am very good at it, and my boys will not know what was absent because I will not let them see it. But I know. And on the days that are supposed to be restful, the knowing is the thing that costs the most. Happy Memorial Day. To those who served, genuinely, thank you. To the rest of us making it work on a budget with children who deserve more than the math currently allows: I see you. We are doing fine. We are always doing fine.   I am simply tired of fine being the ceiling. It's more than tiredness, now. It's exhaustion, but exhaustion doesn't befit a Goddess... I long for all the softness the world has to offer. 

Bridget Choses Enslavement   Bridget’s emotions were running wild.  The ride up to Master’s gave her ample time to reflect on this special occasion.  Bridget was to be enslaved today.  Master had often told her that all women secretly wanted to be possessed and owned by a dominant master.  Collared.  Be an enslaved slut.  Bridget had embraced her inner slave and wanted the delicious certainty of being a strong Master’s owned property.  What a glorious feeling to have no need to carry on with the soul killing charade of denying her sexuality, her submission, her needs and desires. Bridget was so sure.  She couldn’t wait for their special ritual.  The ritual was ordered by her Master but she had made adjustments and additions that had delighted Master.  She knew Master treasured her and all of her. He often remarked on her intelligence and how it drove her kink and also drove his passion to be her owner.  Master always said women with a desire for the collar, for enslavement were usually the very intelligent ones.   Before she left home Bridget paid attention in the shower.  Her shaving was meticulous. Her legs, arms, and pussy were smooth as possible. She thrilled at the thought of the way Master would cup her smooth, oiled pussy and run his hand back and forth as she squirmed and moaned. She knew Master loved to lick and kiss her clit.  He also like to use his Hitachi and a soft makeup brush on her.  He’d alternate the vibrator and brush on her clit.  Sometimes he’d just stop and listen to her breathing.  Bridget loved it when he chained her wrists and ankles in his bed and made her come over and over until she screamed.  He’d gag and blindfold her and make her come some more. Master had learned early in their play to put a towel under her.  The wet spot was something to see. Bridget’s enslavement ritual outfit was all white and had been her idea.  Master had suggested adding long white gloves and she agreed with relish.  Once out of the shower, at Master’s direction, she installed two Ben Wa balls in her pussy.  They went in nicely.  When she walked around she could feel them as she moved.  She wondered if walking in heels would accentuate the sensation.  Oh well, she’d find out soon.  Bridget loved Master’s toy collection.  He had a veritable fleet of vibrators including a very useful remote controlled beauty.  Master said he was shopping for an internet controlled vibrator for some long distance fun.  He also had a selection of nipple clamps, some fun and some she feared.  There was a lot more and she was sure the list was growing After carefully pulling on her white stockings and attaching them to her sexy garter she slipped on her skimpy white panties.  A curvy white push up bra completed her underwear.  She had a nice white blouse with a plunging neckline that accentuated her cleavage. Her brief white skirt would expose her slim legs and white stockings.  Finally she slipped on her white high heels with thosecute sexy little ankle straps.  Naturally she added accessories like a string of pearls and a bright red lipstick.  She decided she’d add her fragrance and put on the white gloves when she arrived at Masters. The miles rolled by.  Her heart sang.  She had made her decision.  It felt so right.  All the things she wanted to experience would be hers in a safe and protected place.  Master would help to explore all the dark kinky places she dreamed about.   The highway intersection appeared on her GPS. She had to turn north.   It was time to call Master.  She heard the phone ring.  Her emotions ping ponged.  Master answered with a pleased voice.  She was close.  He could almost sense her.  They both reveled in the joy of anticipation.     Master remarked that he was looking forward to draping her with his new 1/8” stainless steel chain.  Perhaps chaining her breasts with a nice halter.  When he mentioned that he’d like to chain her in Sirik Bridget’s was incredibly turned on.  The thought of the chain running from her collar to the chained wrist manacles and finally ending on the ankle manacles.  Sirik chain bondage allowed movement but served to remind her that she was owned, protected property.  Master loved everything Gorean and spent a lot of time finding ways to practically adapt the mores of Gor to earth.  A significant Gorean notion is that bondage enhances a woman’s beauty.  Bridget agreed but also concluded bondage made her horny as hell. The rural setting, the trees, the quiet appealed to her.  Here’s the driveway.  Turning right and pulling up the long driveway she found herself next to Master’s car and she knew, the beginning of her life changing event was close at hand.  She put her car in park and applied the parkingbreak.  She felt that she also applied a break on her normal, vanilla life.  She would enter the BDSM Sea.  Enter it as one of the more exotic and nuanced denizens.  She would be a slave girl, specifically a Kajira, a Gorean slave.  Bridget and Master had discussed many aspects of enslavement, slave protocols, sexual ownership, and what they each wanted.  She agreed with Master that after all, it was at its heart, an exotic adult game.  They both knew few could play the game, few could accept their role, and few could adhere to the rules and enjoy them with intense satisfaction.  Bridget loved her role and while their private play was so satisfying, she looked forward to their forays into various forms of public play.  Public Play involved exposing part of her BDSM life to the vanilla world.  Bridget always found it surprising.  She couldn’t believe the naughty sense of excitement she felt when she was exposed.  Was it humiliation, she wasn’t sure but it was very kinky indeed. She applied the bright red lipstick.  She loved the color and loved that her Master had told her he loved bright paint on her lips.  He said she was so attractive and luscious and he wanted her lips prominently displayed for him.  Next her fragrance, chosen because it was both understated and exotic.  At last she pulled on the long white gloves that came up to her elbows. Bridget and Master had discussed how she’d wear the long white gloves and he’d hogtie her and use his ball gag.  The picture in her mind of the helpless position always made her wet and horny.  Master had done this before.  Usually he rubbed a rabbit fur all over her body before he pulled her hair and squeezed her tit while he told her how he felt, what he wanted, and what he’d do with her next. As she turned toward the house she found the garage door open and as she had been instructed, she entered the garage and went to the back door leading into Master’s Rec room.  The lighting was subdued but she saw two large shapes draped in thin cloth.  She knew these were their BDSM toys.  Master had built a large cage for her amusement and a sturdy St Andrews cross that would fulfill her desire to be suspended and held helpless. Master had promised to cuff and chain her to the cross.  She knew she’d be naked and looked forward to the way master slipped a gag into her mouth before he applied something to her ass. Usually he forced a silicone bit gag into her mouth before he used his snake whip on her.  She could bite down on the bit and scream at the same time for the serious relief she craved.  Master had assured her she’d receive a serious whipping and perhaps caning that would leave some minor marks.  She wanted the marks.  She wanted to feel his touch afterward.  She wanted all of the things that ownership demanded. She knew Master had plans for an interesting combination Stocks and Spanking Bench.  Bridget had told Master she’d love to be placed in stocks and have her ass molested, pinched, bit, and butt plugged. She wondered if he’d make good on his promise to administer an enema while in the stocks.  Master had a lot of toys and equipment.  He had showed her the enema paraphernalia and it included an interesting flow meter that Master said was important to ensure reasonable flow and comfort.    Climbing the stairs she heard Master’s voice and it made her heart skip a beat.  She loved the way he spoke to her.  He didn’t speak at her rather he spoke with her, sharing his thoughts and sometimes emotions.  Master was sitting in a large black leather chair.  He was wearing his black suit with a black mandarin shirt and a nice red pocket square.  He leaned forward and motioned for her to come up.  He wondered about her trip and if the Ben Wa balls were still in place and how she liked them.  She told him about her journey and, yes, the Ben Wa twins were still in place and had directed her attention at the oddest of times, like stepping on the brakes. He asked her if she was ready, if she wanted to go through with their plans.  Did she really want all the things they had planned for, had discussed.  She knew what he was asking, giving her a graceful out.  Her mind was made up but his trust and care made her even more convinced that she wanted enslavement, wanted slavery, wanted to be an owned woman, Master’s property.  All of their discussions had led to this decision.  They both saw a Master/slave relationship as the purest and incidentally most fun form of a BDSM power exchange.  Both of their roles had been defined in term that made sense to both Bridget answered him by unbuckling her shoe clasps and removing her heels.  Pulling the ribbon from her hair she let it fall loose about her shoulders.  Bridget smiled at her Master and began removing all her clothing.  Finally she stood before her Master totally naked.  Master seemed very pleased. He rose and ran his fingers gently all over Bridget.  Master believed that a Gorean Master took great pride in his Kajira, his slave and should be familiar with every inch of her. Bridget knew that her actually collaring demanded that she be naked. She knelt gracefully before him, raised her arms over her head and crossed her wrists.  Bridget had assumed the Kolar or collar position of a Kajira, a Gorean slave.  She knew the message she was sending was that she was ready to be bound and collared.  Naturally she looked down and waited for Master.  The decision was not only made but by showing her acceptance of their planned bond to her Master she knew it was done.  How happy, how fulfilled.  She almost wanted to cry the emotions were so strong. Her life as a Kajira, a Gorean slave was about to begin.  See accepted that she must always be pleasing and offer perfect obedience. Master formally asked her why she was before him and what were her deepest desires for enslavement.  She continued to look down and at first her voice was a whisper but as she gained confidence she became secure and spoke with a clear steady voice.  She asked to be enslaved.  She pledged to serve Master in all ways.  She would be pleasing at all times with perfect obedience.  She would be the owned possession of Master, subject to his commands, dressing as he directed.  She spoke the words of enslavement, “bind me master”. She spoke the timeless pledge saying she wished to be enslaved and then crossing her wrists in front of her asked that Master bind her.  She felt the ceremonial tying of her wrists with the traditional Gorean yellow bindings.  Master then said he would complete the ceremony, their enslavement ritual, by collaring her.  She felt the collar begin to encircle her throat.  She gasped as he pulled her hair back so he could buckle the collar.  Her formal slave collar was polished metal and had a screw driven locking mechanism.  It would be difficult or next to impossible to remove, not that Bridget would ever think about removing the symbol that encircled her throat.  Master completed fastening her collar.  He took her chin in his hand and remarked on her beauty and suitability to be his Kajira. Master removed the bindings from her wrists and ordered her to stand and had her turn around slowly to display herself. She looked at herself and saw the beautiful collar.  All she could say was “La Kajira, La Kajira”, Gorean for I am a slave. Bridget now understood in a most intimate way that her master treasured her and wanted to enjoy his treasure.  Master had two more things to complete the ritual and the first had Bridget very nervous.  Bridget knew she was to be branded.  Thankfully the branding didn’t call for a real white hot branding iron.  Bridget received a henna dye print representation of the Gorean Kef, a very delicate elaborately beautiful “K”, leaving a sharp red image high on her left thigh.  Next Master spoke her new slave name. When Bridget and Master were together in their new roles, she would be “Sefa”.  Master explained that her new slave name was pronounced SEHF-ah and meant pleasure.  He said she was named that way to remind her how she must always be his pleasure slave.  She didn’t think that would ever be a problem. It was done. Bridget had been collared, branded, and named.   Master said he accepted her as his Kajira.  Master directed her to put on her garter, stockings, panties, and heels.  He snapped a leash onto her collar ring and said “bracelets”.  Bridget immediately put her wrists behind her back, slightly bowed her head, and turned around to receive Master’s manacles. Using the leash and her bound wrists he moved her forward.  Master led her around a bit and then out around the deck. Master often told her that bondage made a woman more beautiful and that served to make her move in a sensuous, elegant manner.  Bridget agreed and could think of nothing better than to be on her knees with her Master’s cock in her mouth. He took her over to a chair by the deck table.  He motioned for her to kneel.  He unclipped the leash and attached a short piece of chain to her collar.  The chain was connected to a d-ring embedded in one of the large deck posts.  Bridget was chained to a post with her wrists bound.  Never before had she felt so at peace.  She was owned.  She had been confined on her Master’s deck.  She felt the chain on her chest.  Bridget’s excitement was mixed with embarrassment and humiliation.  She was on her knees dressed like a tarty slut, out in the open for all the world to see.  She realized that Master was exhibiting her as his prize possession.  Of course she thought, it’s highly unlikely we’ll be disturbed.  We’re out in the woods on a secluded property with foliage all around.  Master laughed and said UPS or FEDEX might show up. Bridget’s life as a slave had begun.  She wished and waited for what was next.  Master said she was to be caged in his slave pen after they had discussed their enslavement ritual.  Master took a plate of fruit and picked up a small piece of melon.  He held it out for her to nibble. She daintily nibbled the fruit.  She was being fed by Master’s hand.  She felt a deep bond and happiness.  Next Master poured some of his cool drink into a small bowel.  He placed it before her and motioned for her to drink.  He was watering his slave, caring for his prize possession.  She knelt before the bowel and lapped at the drink. She felt so humiliated to be made to drink in this fashion but it also was so deliciously kinky.   Her journey had begun.  Life would never be the same.  A calmness, a fullness, a richness had descended on her soul.  Master caressed her cheek and breasts and then checked the manacles.  He also adjusted her collar.  Bridget knew master would always make sure she looked her best.  She was his prize possession. Master leaned back and took a small velvet sack from the side table.  “Nadu” Master commanded and Bridget went into the slave position that had her kneeling with her wrists behind her back. Bridget was fascinated  She knelt with her thighs spread wide, back arched, wrists crossed behind her back.  Master produced a bright red ball gag and told her to open her mouth. Bridget felt the ball pressed tightly into her mouth as Master firmly buckled the gag in place.  She found her hands bound behind her back, and the ball gag reduced her to small whimpers to communicate.  She knew she was vulnerable and totally in the control of her master.  It was delicious.  It made her wet just to think of all the things he would do with her.  The bracelets were gleaming metal and had a short length of chain between them so they were relatively comfortable. Master helped Bridget to stand.  He pulled her panties down to her ankles and helped her bend over. He guided her to lay across his lap and began to stroke and kneed her ass cheeks.  Master remarked that she had a pleasingly plump ass that just begged to be spanked.  Bridget felt her Master applying some kind of oil on her ass cheeks.  She wiggled across his lap into a more comfortable position. It made her feel exposed, controlled, at her Master’s mercy.  Bridget couldn’t believe how excited she felt, how she wanted more, more attention, more control. Master told Bridget that he wanted to assert his ownership, make sure she knew she was his property.  Bridget whimpered her assent. She wanted to be his,begged her master to have her, to make her his own, anyway he wanted.  Just do it now. Master began a slow rhythmic paddling of Bridget’s ass.  Slowly at first but soon faster and harder.  Bridget moaned and gasped. Master paused and asked Bridget if she was his, his property. Bridget thought “yes, yes, yes, have me, have all of me.  I am your Kajira and want to be nothing else”.  Master held up one finger which was the signal for silence Bridget was surprised that Master had shut her up, to be quiet.  She understood that he wanted to be in control.  He told her he felt so completed by their rituals.   Master loved the idea that they had built their own kinky world and Bridget loved the way he ruled it. He could silence her with a command or perhaps a gag.  She loved the delicious excitement when he placed a nice red silicone ball gag in her mouth.  Naturally Master could silence her by imposing speech restrictions and she always complied but the ball gag was so hot. Master reached behind her to the small table by his large leather chair.  Bridget felt his movement and turned her head.  “Oh my” she thought as Master’s hand held the red ball gag, a shiny bright metal butt plug, and a tube of lubrication.  Her heart beat faster as she realized she was in for another anal training session.  

FAQ   Q: Are you lactating now? A: No, and that is by design.  My fantasy involves the transformation.  That is the biggest part of my fantasy. It will not change until I find my owner.   Q: Is that you in the picture? A: Yes, that is me.  Last year for my birthday, I gifted myself the harness. It took me awhile to get around to trying it on.  Life is often busy.   Q: Can we play?  How about a play date? A: I don’t do play dates. This is about transforming my body. I need a committed partner for this journey.  This is if the first meet goes well.     Q: Why is the distance different than the city? A: I moved. The website doesn’t update miles properly.  I didn’t code it.  No, I’m not a scammer and freaking sick and tired of the attitude about proving it.  Don’t like the website design then F off and stop harassing me about it.   Q: Will you relocate? A: I literally just moved here. So no.     Q: Are you open to a couple? A: No. Totally into monogamy.  Open relationships don’t work for me. Good luck on your search.   Q: Are you open to a married man? A: No, and if I find out who you are married to, I will send trans and pictures to them along with the contact info for a great divorce attorney.    Q: I love ANR, would you be interested in me suckling you? A: ANR is an adjacent kink, but not one I’m into.  I prefer the degradation of the hucow kink.   Q: I have a cow, I want another.  Are you interested? A: I’m into monogamy, so herd play isn’t my thing.   Q: Mail here sucks.  Let’s chat elsewhere. A: Yes it does suck.