DeathMechanic 

What do I seek in a submissive? The submissive I seek is between the ages of 18-40. Body type well proportioned. Not model status, but pleasing to the eyes. I'm sorry but I just don't have an attraction to BBW or SSBBW type of women. Ideally I would like to be able to lift my sub up in my arms, or throw her over my shoulder even. Though I am not opposed to women that are thicker than normal if they take care of themselves. A woman that is not completely indecisive and has an idea about what she wants in any manner of her life. Often times it does not matter to me what choices she makes, just as long as she make a choice. She should be masochistic, enjoying spankings, paddlings, floggings, roughness, bites, and bruises on the ass, to name a few things that I enjoy to dish out. These are just things that come to my mind the quickest and are by no means completely set in stone. I am willing to make some exceptions based on the mind and personality of the submissive, that WOW factor if you will. I do not have a desire for long-distance relationships, so any inquiries should be made by a submissive in the same state as me. However distance does not matter if you just want to be friendly and chat me up for fun. Nothing wrong with making new friends.

6:00 me: Should I take a nap? It's kinda late. Maybe I should just power through... ... 6:03 me: Okay, a quick nap. The puppy will wake me up. ... ... And she did. At 9:00. So that is why I baked a cake and cleaned the kitchen at midnight.  She woke me barking like mad at the noise outside. She is the nosiest of neighbors. I even bought her an ottoman and set it near the window, though in truth it's also for my benefit so she'll stop ruining the pillows on the chair she has claimed as her lookout spot. Does she use the ottoman? Of course not. It's now after 1. I'm awake. I need to be up in five hours, bribe her to eat, pack, not forget the stuff in the fridge, and get on the road. Chances of me being on time? Place your bets. 

Juxtaposition: A Simple Truth for Some, an Impossible Puzzle for Others This post is going to be stylized a bit differently from my others because I have to use my natural learning and life skills here. I’m naturally an auditory learner, which means I process the world through sound, music, voice notes, and talk-to-text. The world is mostly designed for people who process through reading and typing, but this is a much more nuanced conversation, so I’m using talk-to-text to work through it. I’ll be editing as I go because the point of this is for others to understand what I’m saying. If I were just journaling for myself, I’d keep it internal, but I feel like this is something important for the collective that needs to be shared. As this message has been brewing in my head, I’ve felt an internal pull stronger than usual. Everything I talk about is controversial to people outside of these conversations, but this one might even cause a split within the community—those who are involved in submission and dominance, particularly in a lifestyle or spiritual sense. There are a few ways this could go, and I’m aware of that. There aren’t many women who are naturally wired for this kind of dynamic. You’ll see some who know, without needing to look it up, that they’re born with a mindset geared towards service, nurturing, honor, and worship—not as a duty, but because they see the divinity in others. They have a deep sense of care, even when hurt or upset, and they hold on to that unless a line is crossed. When that happens, sure, all bets are off. But in the natural ebb and flow of relationships, they hold a deeper understanding of the bigger picture. Some of us are just born with a slavery mindset in relationships. I know that sounds intense, but it’s true. Of course, how that looks varies between individuals, but it’s a fundamental orientation. For some, like me, this manifests as a 'little girl' mentality within a servitude dynamic. And even that is rare. Most people associate service with traditional roles like being a housewife, but it’s more than that. It’s about attention, effort, care, patience, receptivity—seeing the other person’s needs and deferring your own preferences because you understand the give and take, the bigger picture. The thing is, people often don’t recognize that level of care as service. They take it for granted, especially in vanilla relationships. But for people like me, the ones who orient this way, it’s second nature. And when we have conversations like this, it feels like we’re saying the same thing over and over because, honestly, we are. People write books on this, give workshops, travel the world to talk about it. None of this is new or unique to me. But what I do know is that we, the ones who truly live this dynamic, are in the minority. Even in the lifestyle community, where you’d expect people to understand this more deeply, there’s still a divide. Some just play or role-play, and they don’t get it. And then there are dominants or submissives who think they want this level of intensity, but when they experience it, it’s too much. They didn’t realize how much work it actually requires. They didn’t know that being with someone who is always in that mindset—who is a slave at their core—would challenge them in ways they weren’t prepared for. And that’s the juxtaposition I’m talking about. People think they want this dynamic, but once they experience it, they realize it’s not what they expected. It either deepens them or makes them realize they’re not capable of holding what they thought they wanted. The smaller conversation I want to have revolves around the part of surrender that comes with letting go of certain expectations, such as: "He doesn't respect me because this is what I'm used to," or "If he's not willing to meet me halfway, then he isn't serious about this," or even, "I need him to communicate a certain way, or else it's just not right." This kind of thinking stems from a need to hold onto something—be it a method of communication, an idea of respect, or even just a preference for how things should flow. But true surrender, especially in the context of power exchange, involves letting go of programming and societal constraints. It's about asking yourself, "Is this truly a need, or is this a want disguised as a need?" For those who are naturally oriented towards deeper levels of service and submission, there’s a realization that much of what we think we need in relationships is not a necessity. Instead, it's a projection of previous experiences, of societal conditioning. What I've found, especially in lifestyle relationships, is that many people claim to live 24/7 dynamics or say they are 'lifestyle' D/s, but there’s a vast difference between identifying with that and actually doing the internal work required to embody it fully. This work doesn't come from hopping from one relationship to another or from constantly seeking physical experiences. Instead, it starts internally. It’s an emotional, mental, and spiritual journey before it becomes a physical reality. I've seen this disconnect repeatedly in the community—people who are drawn to play parties or physical acts but haven't done the internal work to match the energy they’re trying to manifest. Yes, play parties, toys, tools, and skills are exciting, but for those who live the lifestyle, the real work begins deep within. For those of us who are spiritual, it starts even before that, on a soul level, and then trickles down into emotional, mental, and finally physical realms. What many in the lifestyle don’t realize is that physicality—sexuality, play, and even basic physical touch—is something that can be improved and refined. There are sex educators, workshops, and so many tools to practice and elevate physical aspaspects. But you can't fix a fractured mindset, a shaky spiritual foundation, or a disconnected emotional core by just improving the physical. If you're starting out rocky in those deeper levels, you'll never

I feel the cold metal of my collar against my skin, a constant reminder of my new reality. I had signed the contract and now, I wait, could be now, or maybe never. The system decided who bought me, who owned me, but until that day, no taxes. I got to live tax free from the moment that collar locked, I was no longer a tax paying citizen. I was just merchandise on a shelf.The beep that echoes through the bookstore signals my salvation and damnation in the form of a large, commanding man. Baxter. He rushes toward me, his eyes filled with a primal hunger that sends a shiver down my spine. His hands roughly grab my arms, pulling me close as he examines me, his gaze intense and unyielding. I can't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer size of him, the power that radiates off his body. "You're mine now," he growls, his voice deep and rough. His thumb brushes against the collar, a single drip of his blood and the control was engaged and I feel a jolt of electricity run through me at his touch. I'm his to command, his to use as he sees fit. He leads me out of the bookstore, his grip tight on my arm. People on the streets shaking their heads, another collared removed from the system, less government money wasted. I can't help but feel a sense of excitement as I follow him, my body tingling with anticipation. I've been waiting for this moment for so long, my training leading up to this very moment, to take the collar you have to serve years if service school, but no bills, no taxes, and after the rules all changed, I had no choice. As we enter his home, he turns to me, his eyes blazing with hunger. "Undress," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument, the collar filling with heat. I comply, my hands shaking as I remove each piece of clothing, revealing my curves to his gaze. He watches me, his eyes taking in every inch of my body. "Kneel," he orders, and I obey, my heart pounding in my chest. He approaches me, his fingers tracing the outline of my collar. "You're mine now," he repeats, his voice softer this time. Then his hand clicks the l

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! 

Woo-hoo approved.  I kept it fairly safe cause I've heard of so many others having issues. As stated I was around when it was collarme.  Probably 2005 until it went poof.  So thrilled to see this new site. I did in fact meet quite a few men from that site over the years.  Some were one offs.  Some were play partners for a while.  Some we just weren't as compatible in person.   I do my best to avoid the latter issue by getting to know someone enough prior to meeting.  Ensuring our wants and needs are both going to be met and that expectations are realistic.  If someone cannot engage my mind prior to meeting I already know that won't happen magically just because we do meet.   I am genuinely a kind person.  I can come across bitchy because of my writing style and bluntness.  I also do not have much patience for those who will not read and are here due to boredom or for me to entertain them via writing and pics.  I am looking for real time meets.  That is all. I do lean submissive.  I love being used.  I am not an idiot or a brainless child.  I am a slut first who also happens to be submissive. If "training" is in your repertoire move on.  That's a game I'm not into.  I'm also not into submissive men or switches.   I am simply not attracted to them. I want people to reach out but please be interested in real time and local.  If men would respect what women want I think both our experiences on this site would be so much better.   I will post more and get into the good stuff.  Take care for now!

The Reward i am kneeling before Goddess's throne, with my back straight, my shoulders back, and my head bowed, as posture protocol requires. Leather cuffs on my ankles and my thighs are connected by a short length of chain, such that i cannot lift myself up at all. A plug is in my ass, but it is not a large one. It stretches me only gently. My cock and balls are tightly bound with a long shoestring, which wraps around them in many devious ways. It bites deeply into the most sensitive parts of my body, which throb with arousal and distress. i am engorged but cannot sustain a full erection, and the parts of me which throb are a deep purple, or at least, they feel that way. She was quite flirtatious as She bound me so. She caressed me in all manners of ways. She bit and pinched me tenderly, playfully. She pressed the most tantalizing parts of Her beautiful body against mine. She calls me a good boy, and a sweet boy, and a lovely little slut. She says i've been a wonderful little plaything recently, and thinks it might be time for me to get a very special reward. She asks me if i think i deserve a reward. i reply that i hope so. How sweet, She says, and kisses me on the forehead. Next i feel a clamp attached to one of my balls, and then one just below the head of my cock. The clinking i hear makes clear that they are connected by a chain. Then the other side of my manhood is similarly adorned. I feel a different type of clamp attached to each my balls below the first pair. Then She is putting clothespins in every place on my cock and balls where there is a welcoming patch of skin. They bite deeply into my already anguished skin. i moan gently when the first clothespin is attached, and a bit more urgently as the numbers grow. i attempted to count them, but my concentration falters at 20. i feel tugging on the clamps, and hear more clinking of the chains. She orders me to arch my back and slump my shoulders down and forward. i feel a sharp upward tug on the clamps already on me, and then the sting of clamps on my nipples. She has looped the chains connecting the clamps on my nipples beneath the other chains, such that all the clamps are being tugged by the others, but the tension is not great. i am in significant pain, but i have withstood much worse. i long to do so now. i will adore Her for it. She kisses me on the forehead and sits on Her throne, and then Her stockinged feet are caressing my thighs. She pets my head as She again calls me a swe

Another day, another copied and pasted message from a fake sub. This is the not uncommon "repeat offender" who tells me how much he enjoyed my profile, and how he really REALLY wants to find a Domme for whom he will do this, that and the other thing.He makes a point of saying that he is sincere, hard working, etc. And it's literally the exact same message word for word that he's sent me twice before, starting in 2022. I've replied in the past. I pointed out the first time that he failed to read any of the profile that he says he enjoyed. Then I told him it was insulting to get the same message over and over because he is basically saying he can't be bothered to remember who he's already written. And now, I've just reported him as spam and blocked him. If I lower my standards to try to find ANYONE remotely acceptable, I end up with what I had a couple years ago - someone who comes to stay a week to "help with my house" but spends all their time smoking pot, watching youtube, and generally having a vacation without ever trying to do anything useful, and having a panic fit when I finally ask them to turn off the tv.  This is where the bar is, guys.  This is why you aren't getting kink.  It's not a lack of Dommes. It's a total lack of effort to be more than the average lazy male couch potato, while expecting kinky sex from a hot chick. not a good look. YOU are the reason you are failing here.

Helping someone with a self-image problem can be a delicate and challenging task, but there are some things you can do to provide support and guidance: Listen actively: Let the person know that you are there for them and that you care about their feelings. Encourage them to express their thoughts and feelings, and let them know that you are listening to them without judgment. Validate their feelings: Let the person know that their feelings are valid, even if you don't fully understand or agree with them. Help them to challenge negative thoughts: Encourage the person to question and challenge negative thoughts about themselves. Help them to identify and replace negative self-talk with more positive and realistic thoughts. Encourage them to practice self-compassion: Self-compassion can help individuals to be kind and understanding towards themselves, rather than self-critical. Encourage them to treat themselves with the same kindness, concern, and understanding they would offer to a good friend.

 Sirinpalmharbor