== Results from bdsmtest.org ==100% Submissive100% Rope bunny99% Pet98% Slave98% Primal (Prey)97% Non-monogamist96% Degradee86% Voyeur80% Masochist78% Experimentalist70% Boy/Girl61% Exhibitionist53% Ageplayer40% Brat18% Vanilla2% Primal (Hunter)1% Brat tamer1% Switch1% Daddy/Mommy0% Rigger

There’s a certain elegance in control. Not the loud, brash kind — but the quiet certainty of knowing someone’s will is bending under your hand, moment by moment. I don’t rush the process. Breaking someone isn’t about snapping them in half; it’s about unravelling them thread by thread. Watching pride give way to obedience, seeing the way humiliation transforms from resistance into desire — that’s the real artistry. I’m not in this for a scene or a fleeting rush. I want the slow burn, the kind that seeps into everyday life until submission isn’t something you do, it’s something you are. If you’ve ever felt that pull — the need to be seen, stripped bare, and claimed — you already know the beginning of the story. The question is: do you know how far you want it to go?  

 It is so sad that an honest to God true Dom/Master with over 50 years in the lifestyle would be on most every sub/slave's wish list. I can be gentle for those just learning, medium for the ones with some experience and Sadistic to those in need of a very hard and prisoner experience. I am a bit of everything to whom it is need for.   Yes as all Dom/Masters my word is my bond to me if I can not be honest or truthful then I should not be here. For those who are Dom/Master in name only before you engage with a sub/slave. You should take every advantage of all those of us who have experience so you can learn. You never talk to a potential sub/slave as you own them as until they willingly give you the honored gift of their submission, you will never own them. This is fact and writen in Iron. That gift is their's to give to whom ever they choose and it is not done lightly. There has to be total trust that you as their Dom/Master will never abuse that gift. Those of you after only sex that is not what this site is about. It is a serious lifestyle steeped jn traditions and rules of conduct. The fact that some of you think it is a game are deceiving yourself and others see it. This lifestyle should never be taken lightly nor used to play games with. The sub/slave is not a toy it is a concept made true by a human being that lives breathes and thinks as well as has feelings that we as Don/Master need to see and think how to co epically add this life to our needs and desires. That comes from trust and a love to make the Dom/Master whole. 

An evening, recalled by the lady, written by me.It was late afternoon and it had been a tough day at the Commission. His kiss when he met me at the station was warm and affectionate; we chatted on the way to the hotel and as we checked in. When we arrived in the room I dumped my stuff on the bed and went out onto the veranda to look out over the lake. A few minutes later I heard him say ‘come here please’. I turned to see him with an impassive look on his face and standing in the middle of the room pointing at the floor just in front of his feet. He took hold of me around my waist and as he kissed me deeply, his hands travelled from my waist down my hips and across my bottom. Then up my back to my neck and then he felt my hair. He murmured ‘give me your tongue’ and I slipped it between his teeth. He nipped it and held it between his upper teeth and tongue. It was uncomfortable but not painful, he had done it often before and I had grown to like it. His hands resumed their journey around my upper body. They were firm, confident and moved without any hesitation. I could not have ed even if I had wanted too and the welcome feeling of melting inside began. He then released my tongue, kissed my lips then he turned me around and bent me over so my elbows were on the bed. He lifted my skirt and folded it over my back. His hands then roved freely over my bottom and between my thighs. He felt my mons, traced the line of my slit and ran his fingertips between down the crease between my buttocks, pausing to press on my anus. He then held me firmly against his thigh and began to spank me- this had recently become a regular beginning to our time together. One spank per cheek, then two, then three, they landed on my upper thighs and the curve of my bottom. He stopped at six and spent a few minutes gently rubbing my bottom, occasionally slipping his hand between my thighs. At ten per cheek it was stinging a lot. By twelve I was having difficulty keeping still. It was the knowledge that if I moved he would start again that kept me in position. The spanking was not unexpected and it had the desired effect. I felt myself starting to melt inside even more as he rubbed my stinging bottom and thighs once again. He stopped and made me stand. Then looked me in the eye, and then said ‘I have a few issues to resolve with you’. My stomach took a lurch, I’d been here before, he had shown no sign of real annoyance with me recently but then he never really did. He took me by the chin, looked into my eyes and said ‘strip and kneel’. He then turned and went to the veranda. It only took a minute to remove all my clothes and jewellery. I knelt, apprehensive about his return, embarrassed it had been a warm day; I had been wearing tights and had not had the time to wash and prepare myself for him. My make up had gone and I knew I did not look my best. He returned and pushed me forward to my knees and elbows. Pulling back my hair he locked my leather collar around my neck. It felt strange after the long break since I last wore it. The wrist cuffs were fitted next before he clipped them behind my back pinioning my wrists. He pulled my collar by its short leash to make me kneel up and then buckled a gag around my neck and pushed the red ball behind my teeth before tightening   it. He turned me so my back was to the mirror and placed a low backed chair in front of me. He could now see both the back and front of me. Sitting on the chair he told me to part my thighs wide and to emphasise the point his foot nudged my knees wide apart. I hoped he wasn’t going to touch me between my thighs as he so loved too, I so regretted not taking a shower immediately we arrived in the room. From his pocket he took some butterfly style nipple clips. I hate them and he knows it, he threaded their chain into the ring at the front of my collar and after pinching my nipples between his thumb and forefinger to make them fully erect he clipped one to each nipple. The discomfort was almost unbearable, I instinctively closed my thighs, and he ed and gently tugged the chain, sending sharp jolts through me. I did as I was told and spread my thighs wide, pushing my mons forward as far as I could. The gag muffling my weak protests. He spoke slowly, jerking the chain on saying each word. ‘Three weeks ago you forgot your make up, two weeks ago your stockings, last week your high shoes. You have arrived in my company wearing tights for the last 4 weeks, hence the immediate spankings. You have not kissed or greeted me properly on meeting for the same length of time. You make up today is poor, your hair isn’t brushed and you have not left your pubic hair as I instructed. In short young lady you are marring your beauty. You are fully aware how beautiful I think you are and you are distracting from it by being sloppy and that disappoints me. I will not accept you detracting from the pleasure I take in having such a desirable woman as my lover. Do you understand?’ I nodded, my eyes starting to water from the discomfort in my nipples and the realisation of how I had disappointed him. There was also the knowledge that I had been here before and if it followed a similar pattern then this was the case against me. By nodding I admitted my guilt. So I was about to punished for being a sloppy and inattentive submissive who had disappointed her Dominant.  He helped me to my feet by lifting me by the collar on my ring; it also had the effect of tugging on my nipples. He reversed his chair and tugged the chain as he removed each nipple clip. It stung as the blood filled each nipple, my knees almost buckled each time, the gag muffling the g. He then connected my wrists cuffs in front of me, and bent me over the back of his chair so my weight rested on my elbows. ‘Part your legs’ he said, I complied and hoped he would decide to have me, not cane me. I was to be disappointed, though recently spanked I accepted I had earned this too. He fetched a cane from his bag as I waited anxiously. Holding the back of my collar he rested the cane against my bottom, drew it back and struck me. ‘One‘ he said. All I did was hear the sound then the harsh sting reached my brain! He was using the flat cane.  A piece of flexible wood two feet long, an inch wide and a quarter of an inch thick. It didn’t leave tram lines or scars; I knew its stinging would last for ages and leave a square red mark on each buttock, but it would not bruise very much. Not that it seemed important at that moment. Though I find the cane painful, the thonged whip he occasionally uses is worse. Its thick strands inflict weal’s and their tips can get into the most intimate parts of my body. I’ve also known him use it on my breasts and belly. Each cane stroke went slightly lower until the last 3 all struck where the tops of my thighs and my bottom met. My legs kicked out from the stinging, by now I had dribbled spittle around the gag, my eyes were streaming and my nose had started to run. He let go the back of my collar and returned the cane to his bag. Returning he pulled me upright by my collar and turned me to face him. I refused to look him in the eye; I must have looked a real mess. He took my chin again forcing me to look into his eyes. I felt so ashamed of my appearance. He had told me I was beautiful so very often and it made me feel so proud when he said it. Now I had let him down by being too complacent. He unclipped the wrist cuffs, reattaching then in front. He said ‘Do you understand what I have told you?’ I nodded. ‘Then get down on your belly on the floor and spread your legs, I haven’t finished with you yet.’ My mind raced, would it be the whip now, on my bottom? I knelt and lay on the floor, my bottom was really stinging and the carpet was rough against my sore nipples, my belly and mons. I spread my thighs wide, dipped my spine and waited. I heard the pop of a tube of lubricant being opened. It wasn’t the whip!! The lube felt cold against my anus as he applied just enough. He undressed, I could feel him looking at my prone body, the line of my sex and the rose of my anus. I was fully exposed because it was how he wanted me to be. He knelt between my thighs and pumped his cock to make the head larger. He spread my bottom cheeks with one hand and pressed his cock against my anus with the other. The tip entered me, it was so uncomfortable. I had forgotten how tight a caning made the cheeks of my bottom clench. He pushed into me, stretching me. I struggled and tried to object; he held me and reminded me of the presence of the whip. Once he was past the muscular ring I relaxed as the discomfort subsided somewhat; I felt the cool of his skin against my hot bottom. He reached and took hold of my hair and collar, pulling them back. At the first slow thrust he said ‘one’. The thrusts were slow and firm, they made my bottom sting though my anus soon adapted to the presence of his cock. He told me to squeeze my buttocks together as he withdrew his cock, and relax as he thrust in. I tried to do so; each time I failed he added two extra thrusts. He was punishing me and reminding me of his dominance by not taking pleasure from the stimulation my anus could give him. It was a reminder that sexual pleasure could not be an excuse for a lack of submission. It was a relief when he reached 100 and stopped counting and thrusting. I was glad he was no longer forcing my nipples against the rough carpet, and his tummy was no longer making my sore bottom sting more. But I immediately missed the closeness and intimacy of the man I so wanted yet had disappointed. He pulled me to my feet by my collar, removed the ball gag and lifted my chin. I must have looked a real mess as I worked my jaw to stop it aching, I certainly felt a mess and I promised him and myself not to let my appearance or behaviour slip again. He kissed me and said he loved me; I’m not sure if it made me feel any better- or if it was supposed to! He led me by the arm into the bathroom and told me to wash his cock and balls. I took a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked horrendous! Mascara running, the marks of the gag around my mouth, spittle around my chin and collar and my nose running! I looked away ashamed as he wet a towel to clean the lube from between my buttocks. He turned me around so my back was to the mirror and rubbed the wet towel firmly between my buttocks, it stung where it touched the red marks.  I heard him say, ‘You have 30 minutes until dinner. Be ready on time.’ I knew that I would make him the proudest man alive when he let me take his arm to dinner. 30 minutes wasn’t long. But I so wanted to see that look of desire in his eyes that I would ensure I was just as he wanted me to be. I knew just how good he would make me feel in return. He went to the veranda to watch the sun set. I set to work, though I did sneak a look at the red marks on my bottom. They made me feel strangely proud because they were his marks and I had submitted to him. He had put them there and there was nothing I could have done about it even if I wanted to. Now I didn’t know what he was going to do with me later, but after being disciplined he always had something special planned for me! 

Long weekends are the worst.  So much time…alone.  I fear I don't do so well left to my own devices once the chores are done.  Last Memorial day weekend I had resolved to take a bit of a break from all of...this.  No stories.  No shaving my body.  No practicing submissive postures.  Focus on the real, stop endlessly daydreaming of submission.   It's been the entire summer now.  I don't feel any better.  I've not suddenly found a partner in life.  I've not been any more or less productive than before.  In fact, today, I'm about out of my mind.  My natural body hair has returned and somehow it makes me feel….dirty.  I miss the way clothing felt against my skin.  I miss the ritual of shaving everything.  Of imagining I was doing it for my Owner.  Of taking some action in the real world that confirmed my nature and my deepest desires.   Will I always be this…stuck?  This alone?  Is there any hope that, one day, I might find someone who will want me for everything I am?  Who can accept this terrible and inescapable desire to kneel?  To be used?

It's 230am and I am awake. There is no mistaking the throbbing between my legs and my wetness that stains my sheets. My mind burns with desire and my skin longs to feel the soft nylon rope that entangles my body. I think of your eyes, how they survey every inch of my body..your body. I lay awake feeling this insatiable need, a yearning for your touch. I can see you licking your lips trying to decide where to begin. Let the games begin. I'm bound to you, your playground, your toy. I crave your touch, your power...I am bound to do your will. Sensation after sensation I'm tamed by you..Your touch, your control and your need for pleasure. I can feel my bonds tighten each time I move, ging for air as I'm enveloped completely. My body tingles, I can't catch my breath. I feel your hands on my discovering every inch as if it is the first time. I feel my pleasure surge through my body. My heart races, I can't move, I can't breathe! God please don't stop! I'm startled awake, sheets soaking wet, the throbbing subsides. I collapse into my pillows and melt into my bed. I can feel you in my mind...I'm yours for your pleasure. I feel your comfort, even though I'm alone. I can't get you out of my head...so this is how it feels to be owned.

Things are ramping up and a little closer we crawl tug tug of that net for one and for all... ******************** Found out Mum has moderate sleep apnea.  40% of alz patients do.  funny thing about amolyoid protiens, seems they only break down during REM.  No sleep, No REM. No REM. No Brain.  70% O2 levels = BRAIN DAMAGE. Seems to Me mandatory health screening for sleep/breathing/bmi disorders need be the call of the day, especially in terms of a dementia diagnosis! Also... What in blazing hell is with ER's with no TV for DEMENTIA PATIENTS!?!   DEMENTIA:  1 HOUR = 1 DAY; 1 DAY = 1 WEEK. 1 WEEK - 1 MONTH 1 MONTH - 3 MONTHS Imagine being denied TV or computer or anytihng which gave you sanity for an entire week in the hospital!  How stable, or rational, or healthy are you? Its barbaric and borderline abusive.  Specialists are needed in the ER, just like for a child, and in terms of dementia for ordering food, diet, entertainment.  To expect a comprimised, handicap person to "entertain" theirselves or to be mature enough to handle the ER is a fail for society. ***************** Best wishes   

== Results from bdsmtest.org ==100% Rigger100% Sadist97% Dominant94% Primal (Hunter)94% Degrader92% Non-monogamist90% Master/Mistress88% Brat tamer87% Owner70% Experimentalist51% Voyeur46% Daddy/Mommy37% Ageplayer35% Switch31% Pet29% Exhibitionist11% Submissive10% Vanilla0% Masochist0% Boy/Girl MistressWhipplash 

I don't use the term fake when describing a person who isn't suitable for Me. A bottom pushing his own needs is off my radar because an actual submissive with five years experience ar giving up authority outside of play and in life who drives his own car, who already goes to munches and clubs is IN my radar. So many on here who contact Me are not suitable so I rarely login here. Guys wonder where all the Dominant Women are? They are not on here for the reason I just gave. Pushy bottoms want a a kink service but don't go to fetish clubs to get their kink fix. There are plenty of tops at fet clubs happy to give twenty minutes of play for a drink and foot rub. Quid-pro-quo, give something in return as two human beings. Simple.  Mistress Whipplash Ma'am