I'm not quite sure how this site works or where this post will show up, but I'm up late and wondering....another post got me thinking, and I'm off on a tangent. I guess I'm trying to make a shift from my vanilla life to this new and exciting life. The vanilla life is easy, I guess, kinda, I can have sex, yay, it's easy, I can lie and say I like it, I want to be with you, and have a relationship. But all the time my brain, and penis, knows better, I'm thinking how I can convert you to be my perfect kinky partner. I CAN'T. I KNOW! FU#K! So now what? I'm tired of lying, feeling guilty. Virginisinism sounds good for now I guess.

"First Encounter" Inner thoughts of this dom. HIM:  "Today I'm about to meet this incredibly sexy submissive ive been coveting for a while. She a cute little thing that would be perfect to join my family. I wonder how quick she will succumb to my will? What and how far will she go to be allowed to orgasm?" These as many other stray and random thought rattled their way around my mind. The excitement mounting as we were about to meet real time after a very long period of online and phone chats as we each revealed ourselves to each other. Developing what we hoped would be a meet that would cause sparks to fly within us as the anticipation had grown that seductive. I meet you at a quiet little bar. There we introduce ourselves for the first time in real life. I feel like I know so much about you after the many weeks we have spent chatting online. You are even more beautiful in person. As I hug you tightly to my body the faint whiff of your perfume entices me. I slowly slide my hands down your back as out tongues dance in our joined mouths. Working down your firm ass I can't help but squeeze your cheeks. I slight moan escapes your lips into my mouth. I disengage our lips and bring my face against your neck. Once again inhaling your perfume and freshly washed hair. As I bring one hand up to your head to hold it in place as I nuzzle your neck my other hand slides up your short dress to make sure you followed my instructions and didn't wear underwear.  I pull your head to the side by your hair exposing your neck. Like Dracula I attack your neck. Nibbling and licking it as I work my way to your naked shoulder. My other hand openly caressing your naked ass for all to see. I am so proud of her. She passingly mentioned to me that she was never into PDA nor was she much for kissing. Yet here we stood locked together mouth to mouth for all the world to see. "If only she had gotten thus kind of affection more often. Would she feel differently?" I think to myself.  She feels the cool breeze against her naked ass as I intentionally expose it. I want to see her reaction to my actions. Will she deny my? If I am to be her sir surely she will comply. She knows if she passes the tasks I will bestow upon her over the next week that she will find shelter within my arms. Secure in the fact that I will help her grow and be there to catch her when she falls. For this she will give me her mind, heart and body but eventually I want to own her soul. The pilgrimage of that honor is my quest.   HER: Feeling you lift my incredibly already short skirt and the breeze on my ass, you feel my whole body grow warm, and see the bright red spreading across my skin, as i move my hand to cover my poor ass and gs every so quietly, in your grip i do my best to turn away from the other people near by knowing i wont get far i still wiggle and whisper a quiet "Sir, theres people looking" all the whole attempting to pull the skirt back down and cover myself.  As she tries to pull back her skirt feeling humiliated and embarrassed I quietly whisper in her ear. It ok baby girl. You are beautiful scars and all. I desire to show you off. Love yourself for me.  You feel my fingers sliding between the cheeks of your ass. Relieved that this action is allowing your skirt to begin covering your nakedness. Suddenly you feel my finger tip dip between your lips that are moist from fear and excitement. The action is quick and efficient. Only lasting a split second yet the feelings it created within you may last much longer. You quickly look around to see if anyone noticed your reaction and what sir is doing to you. There at the bar is a young man. He can't be any older than 22. A grin on his face as he quickly turns away when you look his way as if you wouldn't notice the lust within his eyes. You suddenly feel wanted and desired.  Here your sir wants you and is giving you the attention you've been longing for for so long. And a man who is so young looks at you like a cougar with lust. Willing to pounce on you if he could. All these thoughts are running freely thru your tangled mind. Mixed emotions running ramped like a freed feral cat. Yet your body is betraying you with its actions. You turn suddenly away from me pulling me towards the waiting booth in the darker corner. I see the flushed look in your face. The embarrassment I have caused you. It turns me on making my cock twitch even more. The wetness I felt when dipping my finger in you showed me how your body betrays your mind. Although embarrassed you are turned on. Is it because of my actions or because you were being watched. I glance at the young man who is once again looking. I look him in the eye with alpha male intimidation that has served me well all my life. Something earned taught and released from my primal interior being from the years I spent in special forces while in the military. Something about one who has seen things that show the ugliness of man is like an imprint. Although not visible it is detected in posture. My eyes show a certain sadness but also scream that I am not one to be reckoned with. The young man immediately turns away. He picks up his beer and goes to the other end of the bar. Interpreting the unsaid message given to him by just a glare by a man more than twice his age. That instant momentarily distracts me as I faintly hear something you said but didn't fully acknowledge.  I pull you back to me. Holding you tight against my body once again. I feel your breasts pressed against my chest. Our groins mashed together as if they already know what is to come later. Anxious to get started as my cock strains against the denim of my jeans held prisoner. I whisper once again into your ear. "It's OK baby girl. I want to feel you against me for another moment.  After all these weeks you are now flesh and not just words. I nip your bare shoulder lightly with my teeth.  My tongue then flicks back and forth where my teeth once bit as if to offer a healing moment.  Unneeded tho because of the gentleness of it. Putting the smile on my face that I use for the world, the one that doesn't necessarily reach my eyes but seems to somehow charm everyone that comes in contact with.  Feeling you slide into the booth next to me, I have to concentrate so hard. In a way that I do not tense up, but keep my body relaxed. In the way "he who must not be named" showed me at all times. Afterall, no man wants to cuddle a corpse Katey! Shaking the thought from my head. I relax and let my features fall soft. Warm and welcoming. I risk a glance up from the table where my gaze has previously been focused and catch his eyes. They're peering into mine! Why on earth does it feel like he's looking straight into my soul? No one ever notices this much or pays this much attention. I know I'm cute tonight. Hell, I'm always cute. Enough cleavage showing to capture the attention of everyone in the room that has a penis and even some who don't. Why is he so focused on my eyes?  Shifting nervously but trying so hard to stay relaxed. (No one cuddles a corpse Katey!) I can't help but freeze just a bit as he grabs my hand pulling it to his face. Please don't notice the sweaty palms I chant in my head. He's going to think I'm insane or unable to show love. SHIT! What if he thinks I don't like him?  Pushing the thoughts from my head again drawing my focus back to the moment. I realize he's speaking to me. Not hearing half the words, but his eyes capturing mine again like he seems to have a talent of doing. I see a soft side in there. Someone honestly gentle.  You've seen that before too Katey! Right before the black eye my brat pipes up. Shut up it's different this time try to have faith. I zone back into his words and catch something about being his pet for the night.  About being taught new things. This stirs the curious one, the fun filled one with the will to live inside me. She gets super excited bouncing up and down like a child seeing stars for the first time. Eyes shining bright. She loves to learn new things.  All this flashes across my face before the brat hog ties her and sits her back down in the chair. For once her and I agree. Now is not the time for you to surface we're still treading new waters here. Wondering if he saw the roller coaster of emotions going through my twisted broken mind before my face settles. Back to the factory style smile and shining blue eyes all the men seem to love. I relax into his touch trying to show I'm not a mutant. Afraid I'll come off robotic. The motions coming so natural they seem programmed ( No one cuddles a corpse Katey!)  Hoping this gets past him and smile briefly hearing him say, "Tonight I own you". I reply with a sweet, "Yes Sir! I can't wait." Looking into her eyes as he holds her hand for reassurance he sees inner conflict. A turbulent turmoil of emotions taking flight within. He understands these feelings all too well. Demons that he himself has wrestled with for most of his life. His innocence stripped away from him as a delusional teenager.  His mind flashes back to the day he graduated high school. Signing his life away for the next 4yrs. Gonna be a GI! Government Issued, warrior. Right the wrongs and save the world from evil.  Yeah if only he knew who the enemy really was. How evil is everywhere in so many shapes and forms. A delusioned man child at only 18 who thought he knew it all. Quickly his mind snaps back to her. He lays her hand on his thigh and holds it there. Mere inches from his inflamed cock. Swelling that she has caused. Yes she is cute. Those beautiful braless tits on display. Just as he had instructed her to show off. Her beautiful, wanting to please, features displayed on her face. Her body, in that short dress. This too he had requested. One that could have started wars centuries ago. Her freshly washed hair with a hint of fruity smell.  My God what I want to do to that body! But no not yet! Beautiful women are a dime a dozen. That's not what I am after. I want that inner beauty I know is there hiding in fear in the darkness. Perhaps behind one too many negative experiences.  He looks at her again. Tilts his head to the side and leans in. Plants a soft kiss upon her forehead. "This is to free your mind of evil thoughts.", he tells her. Then leaving her hand on his thigh he takes hold of her head. One hand on either side and draws it to him. He kisses one eye, as her eyes instinctively closed. Perhaps out of fear. Then he kisses the other. "These are to ward off evil visions and nightmares.", he tells her. As he releases her he notices her hand is right where he left it. Is it out of fear he wonders as he glances down. Then he sees her moving her hand. Rubbing his thigh. Almost as if she is giving him a non-verbal thank you. Thanking her lucky stars she's put on her trained face. Her body falling in line with the program. This scene all well to practiced in previous encounters with other men. Her body doesn't trip her up for once. It manages to stay relaxed when he reaches for her hand placing it on his thigh.  He keeps her hand trapped under his a few moments. A feeling she's used to. The pinned down feeling. But this time something is different about it. Maybe it's the soft sweet words coming from a reassuring mouth. Instead of the normal don't move whore she was used to. Maybe its the sweet soft kisses he's laid upon her forehead or eyes. She's never felt something like this in all her years experience with men. She finds it confusing. Yet comforting. Feeling that wonder child inside stir some more before the brat slaps her in the back of the head. This is why you stay locked down. Too eager and not enough caution.  The mix of emotions inside rolling over in her mind cause an automatic reaction. The smile softens on her lips. Eyes closing just a little before she peers up at him through her lashes. His hand has moved but two things occured. One she knows never to move from a spot youve been placed unless you want the belt. Yet, a stranger feeling she's not sure she's felt before. Of not wanting to move hand this time. In fear of feeling to stiff again she lightly brushes her fingertips along his thigh. Not out of habit this time but because maybe part of her actually wanted to.  Squeezing her thighs together she notices how wet she's become. She can't understand it. Pressing them tighter in fear of leaving behind a wet spot. She can't help but think, "Where are the drinks?" His relief at feeling her hand beginning to rub his thigh is a welcome relief. Although part of him wonders. Is this just a programmed response? Is she like the many other women he has spent countless hours with chatting, exchanging photos and erotica only to vanish after the session was over.  Almost as if, they, no different than what would be considered creepy guys. They used him to flirt and arouse until they achieved their level of sexual satisfaction and then disappeared. Leading him on like a cruel joke. No he says. That's why he reminds himself, it's not about the sex.  If not to toy with him then what would a beautiful young woman see in an older man like himself. The look in her eyes as she looks at him gives him strength. He sees so much of himself in her. Scars of hurt, rejection, pain and broken promises of lost love.  Yet here I am today he says almost out loud. Daring to take each step to move forward proud and strong. To never give up and to fight whatever battle comes my way. In whatever shape or form it manifests itself. His strength comes from his confidence. A weaker man would be shy and afraid to take a chance again for fear of once again being used and rejected. Tossed aside like left over scraps. But no not me. I am a WARRIOR! I want to believe that there are still people who can love out there the way I do. It keeps my faith in humanity from being irradicated. All this swims through him as his mind processes it all with the lightning speed of a super computer. Just like his training. Compartmentalize evaluate the situation and act. It has worked for him all his life. The long pause between them like a moment of silence causes some awkwardness between them. Then he feels her rubbing his thigh harder. More confidently as if by her own attrition and not a programmed response or expectational desire. It's as if she can see him go far away and is saying, "I'm here. I want to be here and you're ok". Once again he looks into her eyes and sees something that wasn't there before. A softness. A real glitter almost as if they were smiling at him. Wanting and desiring him. His already hard cock twitches. He feels it touch against her hand from the unexpected reaction she's caused. He feels a wetness against his bare thigh as he realizes he's leaking because of her! Thoughts are interrupted as the waitress finally arrives. He orders a Sprite for himself and looks at her and asks. "What would you like beautiful?" A gentle nibble and a kiss! Her coy way of showing affection is illuminating. Her cute sense of witty humor threw him off guard but breaks a grin on his face. She has the humor in her like I do he thinks.  He turns to her and sees her sitting there hands clasped together on her lap. Legs firmly held tight as if to ward off foreign invaders and protect her real-estate.  He slowly eyes her up and down. Her breasts he notices pushed out as if she is attempting to seduce him with them. Her heavy breathing pushing them in and out each time she takes a breath.  He notices how the dress accents her features and brings out the woman in her. Good choice he thinks to himself glad that he purchased it for her and had it shipped to her. Along with the garters that hold up those incredible stockings he liked so much. As he continues down he sees the cowgirl boots as well. He noticed how well the whole outfit fit her earlier but was too enthralled with other things to notice all the details till now. Even tho they are imprinted in his mind to remember forever. Their first meet and date which if leads to what he hopes and knows she desires may be a long term relationship. He brings his eyes up and looks deep into her eyes now. He made it quite obvious that he was checking her out. He looks at her hoping that checking her out and admiring her has pleased her. Perhaps even aroused her. He leans in and plants a soft and gentle kiss on her neck again. He loves necks and shoulders. Moving to her ear as the waitress returns with their drinks He whispers. "You are sexy as fuck. Even more beautiful in person than all the pictures and videos you sent me can capture. If only you knew how much I desire you right now." The waitress places the drinks in front of them smiling as she overheard his comment. She even noticed his tongue flicker across her ear. "Would you two like anything to eat tonight?" She asks. He looks at her and grins. "On our menu" she chuckles knowing what that grin insinuated. His Katey too giggled at that. Feeling more confident in herself knowing his desire was genuine.  He laughing says. Yes please can you bring us some menus.  You obviously know what I would like as my appetizer and dessert He says to the waitress knowing she has a good sense of humor. The waitress laughs with him. I don't blame you she says. I would probably skip all of that and just have her as the main course myself..... A chuckle from in his heart surfaces itself. It's audible sound to those within earshot turn to look it is that infectious and genuine. He wraps his arm around her neck as she cuddles into him for the first time. Feeling her warmth against him he wraps his arm around her neck holding her closer to him. Enjoying how she feels. He notices and feels her hand upon his thigh. This time voluntarily and with movement of its own.  "She's a firecracker isn't she" he half asks half states to the waitress. The waitress can't help but notice in the position she is in now with her head tucked into him, his arm around her neck asnif claiming ownership that she can see right down her dress. Her beautiful breast in plain sight and her nipples hard from arousal. She sees the woman's hand move to his thigh. The action of her rubbing draws her attention to it. She notices how hard he is and how his cock is running down the inside of his thigh mere millimeters from her hand. She notices what looks to be a damp spit on his jeans. She's is mesmerized by these two as she is hypnotized by their hidden affection and the energy radiating from them. She sees her run her finger along the length of his rigid cock. Slowly methodically with purpose. This little vixen knows exactly what she is doing as she looks up at her, stares into her eyes and grins. His cock continually twitching and pulsing from her actions. His voice draws her back to reality. "Whatever she wants tonight. We are celebrating our union" he says. Then he looks down at her as she lifts her eyes to meet his. A glimmer that sparkles thru his piercing blue eyes looking deep into hers. "What would my darling pet like to eat" he softly asks her. As he waits for her reply he can't help but feel a rush running thru his body. The way she's teasing his cock on her own. She may think that he didn't notice the pixy like smile she gave the waitress who saw her doing it. As he looks down into her eyes to ask her what she would like he too notices the plunging neckline of her dress is allowing anyone above her to see her tits. He sees her nipples standing out exceptionally far and hard from the soft roundness of her breast.  It excites him making him leak once again. He can feel the wet warmth released from the eye of his cock. After asking her what she would like he gently blows down the front of her dress. His breath running down her neck across her brwasr and to her nipples. He swears it looks like they just got bigger from that. He turns to the waitress noticing she saw this too. Her reaction is priceless. Her almost hypnotic state excites him. She TOO wants and desires his little pet nestled softly and safely against him as his strong arm holds her tight. He blinks his eyes several times. The light starting to creep its way into the room is almost blinding. He rubs them trying to get the sleep out of them as he looks around and then checks out the clock. Looking down at his crotch he realizes his cock is still hard. There's even a couple wet spots on his underwear. Clearing his head he slowly gets up to go make coffee. Wow that was one hell of a dream he smiles to himself remembering it.  

Requirements, not Expectations.   Respect My time Match My efforts  Keep your word Always be honest Stay consistent   Show up, be on time (words/actions) I will not work harder than you Your word is the honor you start with Omission is the choice you willingly make Consistency builds trust.   Start out being the best you can be and grow. Think about each of these: how to improve a relationship or blow it up by choosing not to do these things. 

Embracing My Feminine Submission 🌸✨ Today, I find myself reflecting deeply on my journey of submission, a path sprinkled with the soft petals of my femininity and the resonating echo of my girlish heart. There's an undeniable intertwining of these identities, each one validating and magnifying the other, creating a tapestry of self that I continue to weave with delicate, yet eager hands. 🎀. OMG, Total introspection! Like, deep-diving into my submissive heart and its BFF relationship with all things girly and femme. It’s crazy how these parts of me just click together. It’s as if the universe went, “Hey girl, here’s some sparkle for your soul,” and BAM, I’m living my authentic self. 💁✨ Being submissive isn't just a role I've adopted; it's a celebration of my most authentic self, where my natural inclinations to yield and please are not just accepted but revered. It's in this sacred space that my girlishness - the sweet, effervescent joy I find in the simplest things, and my feminine essence - the flowing well of nurturing, intuitive emotion, come together in a beautiful, symbiotic dance. 💃❤️. It is like...my heart’s home. It’s where my love for pleasing isn’t just okay; it’s adored. And this space? It’s where my inner girl - all giggles, twirls, and happy tears - gets to hang out with my woman-self. They chat, they laugh, they cry, they share skincare tips (lol), and together, they’re just me. 💕👛 Now, let’s talk fashion, because honey, my subby side loves to dress up. It’s like every outfit is a secret message, all “this is me, this is real.” The fabrics kiss my skin, the swish of a skirt, the jingle of my bangles - girl, it’s all part of the symphony, you know? 🎵👠 I dress myself in the aesthetics of my submission, each garment a symbol of soft surrender. The silk feels like whispers against my skin, the colors, pastel or vibrant, mirror my mood, and the act of choosing what to wear is less about fabric and more about wrapping myself in a visible representation of my identity. The bangles on my wrists sing with every movement, a gentle, constant reminder of the delicate strength I carry within. 💅👗 But real talk, submission isn’t just a look. It’s like...a heart agreement. It’s built on mega trust and this super special respect-package. It’s not a solo gig, either. It takes two to tango, and when His strong, guiding hand finds mine? Magic. It’s like I’m free in a way only us in the know get. 🙈💫. it goes beyond the tangible. My submission is painted in the strokes of trust, painted with the brush dipped in the hues of reverence and devotion. It's an artwork that requires two, though - one to surrender and one to accept the offering. It's a mutual dance, and when guided by a firm, loving lead, I find the purest freedom, a paradox that only those in this intricate dynamic can truly understand. 🌹🔐 In my day-to-day, whether I'm tending to my tasks, engaging with others, or lost in quiet moments of reflection, my submission hums softly in the background, a soundtrack only I can hear. It's in the way I craft my space, a blend of comfort, beauty, and order. It's in the way I express my care for those around me, a pour from the pitcher of my heart. And it's most loud and clear in the stillness of the night, when I journal my thoughts and experiences, each word a thread in the tapestry of my submissive journey. 🌙✍️ The resilience of my journey isn't lost on me. There's a profound strength in vulnerability, a courage in femininity that the world often overlooks. As I continue this journey, I do so with an open heart, celebrating the girly joy, the sensual submission, and the intricate femininity that makes me whole. Here's to the paths we walk, the roles we cherish, and the selves we continue to discover. 🥂💕

I had perhaps the best experience in my life last week. I went to see a very close friend a few states away. I've known her for 20 years and there's always been an unrequited attraction between us but I've told her very little about my submissive need. Well, she sensed it because the first night we were together, she immediately bound me tightly to all four posts of her bed and she had her way with me...but...   Everything was about her...her needs, her wants...her desires. There was not a single thing done or mentioned about mine. She used me as she wanted, rode me and stopped when she was done, not when I was done. I got on my knees and licked everything she told me to lick, put my tongue where she directed. She did everything to me that was my absolute desire, orally please her, CBT, whipping, spanking...insertion. The only thing she denied me was my own eruption. Finally, on our last night, she gripped me painfully and whispered her permission. It was....amazing. Nothing about me except until the end...everything for her. I was in heaven the entire week. The only thing is that it's not a permanent thing...because of the distance. I want it, she does not. And it was something she did with no preparation or warning....spur of the moment...because it was something she sensed in me.

I Wonder Who We Are... I often look at myself thru the eyes of my mind. Who do I **think** I am? Who do I want to be? Who am I? What am I? I wonder how many others take the time to self-reflect like this? I try to do this weekly.  Sometimes late at night as I bask in the quiet night’s arms I find my mind drifting to the day gone by. I replay the days events and scrutinize my actions at times.  TODAY, did I live my life to my best potential? The gift of life I was given is a treasure that we so often under value. It's easy to get caught up in the daily struggles that inflict us as we sometimes dredge thru the day thankful it's over.  Guilty! After all we are all human.  In a world filled with hate, selfishness, struggles and woes sometimes its all we can do not to scream. Allow a blood curling sound to exit our lungs, travel up our throats picking up momentum as it exits our lips with a shiver echoing thru the darkness to find no respite.  A primal sound that perhaps evolved from our primal ancestors to never develop or change in the millions of years gone by. Signaling our frustrations and every other imaginable negative energy that exists within us today. As we yearn to release it all allowing them to somehow be absorbed into the cosmos, never to return. A cry for help perhaps? Perhaps.  Perhaps it's just an evacuation of all that we resent exiting us hoping we can fill the vacancy with the positive. I like to think that's the case with me. But as I look around each day, looking for positive energy, from my fellow man I am left starving. Wanting to see more beauty I can absorb to act as my muse. Guiding me to be a better me as it motivates me to want to feed love back into the world.  But alas, it has become a daunting task. Disappointment abounds the empty caverns of my heart and mind. Have we become so shallow as a society that the only thing that now defines us is instant and momentary self gratification? Often at the expense of others. Is this what thousands of centuries of evolution has led us to? NAY I say! Not I today! Unable to find it readily at the hand of my two legged peers I turn to nature. I find myself being blindly led to the pasture where my four legged friends reside. I hear their whinnies as they see me approaching. Running towards me anxious to see me. Besides me walks my fury four legged best friend. My canine soul mate who has dedicated his life to unselfishly and unconditionally love me. To never leave me no matter what I do or how I treat him. He is bound for life to me. Arriving closer to the gate a thunderous echo of stampeding hooves envelopes the air. Filling my ears with its roar as it approaches closer. Standing on the lush green carpet of grass I am surrounded by these four legged majestic creatures that so easily could do me harm. My smaller companion eyeing them carefully under his protective gaze.  Wet nuzzles against my hands searching for treats. This action is common place here. All fighting for my attention as there are so many and I am only but one. The creative one among the group, finding no need to challenge the rest for the position of my hands. He quietly walks up behind me. I am made aware of his presence among the distraction as I feel rubbing against my back. His side turned head using my back as a scratching post to satisfy his itch?  No my friends that is not the self centered case of this half ton creature. He is saying, "Daddy I am here. I missed you. Where have you been?" He is most certainly not the alpha but nor is he the omega. He falls somewhere in between the alphabetically defining realm of personality letters.  Turning to let him know I acknowledge his presence with rubs I manage just a few. The other horses quickly pushing him away to look to my moving hands for what they desire. Treats and rewards to fill their already fat full bellies. Yet he stands alone a mere stones toss away watching. Reaching into my pockets I retrieve a handful of treats. Allowing the surrounding herd to acknowledge them with their keen sense of smell I toss them in the opposite direction of my inamorato who stands there with no desire to chase such petty treats. The rest of the herd now busy vying to retrieve the hand tossed delicacies he approaches me. I hold his head against me with love and affection. It is as much his fuel as it is my own. I turn to exit, followed at a respectable distance by my adoring and adored friend.  Holding it open signaling him the permission he seeks to exit the field and the others who physically resemble him. As the three of us stand there, me enjoying and soaking up the moment, I can't help but observe. Acknowledging and absorbing the actions that just took place.  My plotted journey observed and responded to. The actions and reactions as I entered. The easily manipulated distraction I created that all but one fell prey to.  His dedication to follow me outside his defined boundaries and the company of the others physically like him who have near matching DNA. His choice to leave the safety of his peers signals to me that he finds safety and comfort in my company. His trust in me that I always have and always will be his caregiver, his provider, his protector fills my now empty heart.  The many journeys we have traveled together since his birth are safely tucked away in my mind. Easily retrieved to reminisce upon when needed. As I stand there admiring this majestic creature of God before me my mind retrieves from the filing cabinet labeled with his name. Quickly sorting thru day 3 of his birth begins to play.  He is laying curled upon a stack of hay within a stall of the barn. His protective mother standing guard over him. Her ears pinned back warning anyone that intends to do him harm to stay away. Her eyes soften and ears relax as she recognizes me as the source of the sound. Carefully not to startle the sleeping foal I slowly approach. His mother content with who the human visitor is allows me safe passage.  I find myself first sitting next to him admiring his beauty. Astounded by the miracle of birth that he is. His soft breathing seen in the way the straw beneath his nose moves back and forth as he inhales and exhales so gently. Leaning in closer to touch him I look at his guardian looking down at me as if silently asking for her permission to get closer. When I see no warnings of alarm in her I move my hand gently running it across his neck.  His days old fur so soft I am jealous not to have something as comforting as this to sleep upon myself. He releases a soft sigh as if finding comfort in my loving strokes.  Now realizing that the submissive love his mother has given me extends to the trust of her new born, I inch closer. Soon I find myself laying along side his tiny body. Curled up next to him I drape an arm over him. Another soft sudden exhale of breath reaches my ears. Is he communicating his pleasure in feeling my warm body against? Is he capable of such a thought process? I lay there for what feels like hours pressed against him. Only to realize as he begins to finally stir that it’s only been 10 minutes by my watches time.   Emancipated from this world lost in head space I return the the physical by his movement.  He turns his head, in what seems to be, a search to find the source of his sighs. I softly look into his eyes hoping he can peer into my own and see the love and adoration I have for him. THAT moment etched in my mind forever more NEVER to be lost or forgotten.   Slowly he rises as if not to harm me and stands over my still prone form. I find my heart overflowing with love. If only I could find this form of love in my own breed. His mother content that no harm will befall him under my watch, complete and loyal trust bestowed upon me finds comfort in our bond to now lay down herself.  Obviously exhausted by the ritual of birth and having to provide  protection to her child. Her 1400 lb mass taking up much of the stall but careful not to invade my space. Suddenly I find myself lost in thought. Who do I think I am? Who do I want to be? Who am I? What am I? To THEM.  A brushing against my calf returns me to the world of today as the drawer filled memories are closed. In the universe of my mind I lost a momentary connection to this plane of existence.  My canine comrade standing now by my side waiting for direction. He looks at me then glances to the tack room and back at me. As if he is asking me, in the best way he knows, “Are we going for a ride?” my eyes look down at him as I rub his head. “Not today good boy. Today daddy just needed affirmation to who he is. My hearts full again. Thank you.” “Go get him and let’s go back in. Daddy has work to do.” Doing what he’s been taught to do under my caring tutelage he bounds off to bring back my blessed 4 legged gift. A simple double click from me, seeing his adopted brother heading his way, he knows its time to go back. With the look of a bowed head he walks to me as I rub his face and ears. I whisper in his ears, “Good boy.” As if content to hear these words he heads for the gate. Opening the gate I let him return to his pasture mates where he looks like just another horse. “Come on dog. Daddy has to go search for someone! “ he says as he turns to go back into the house. Because now I know who and what I am. I know what I was meant to be.

Everything He Has, Until There Is Only Me There is a particular music to it that I do not think you can understand until you have heard it in a room that belongs to you, with someone who has given you permission to play. The crack of a whip is not violence. It is punctuation. It is the sound of a sentence ending exactly where you intended it to end, clean and final and ringing in the air long after the moment has passed. It lands and the room holds its breath and in that held breath is everything: the authority that swung it, the surrender that received it, the particular electricity that lives in the space between the two. I feel it in my wrist first, then in my chest, then in the slow, satisfied warmth that moves through me when something has gone exactly as I intended. The skin that receives it blooms and I watch that blooming the way an artist watches a canvas accept color. With attention. With pleasure. With the specific pride of someone who knows their medium. The paddle is a different thing entirely. Where the whip sings, the paddle speaks in a lower register, a hard and resonant thud that you feel in your bones before your skin has finished deciding what happened. There is no elegance to it and that is precisely the point. It is blunt and declarative and it leaves no room for ambiguity. You know what it means when it lands. You knew what it meant before it landed. The sound of it fills a room completely, the way a bell fills a room, and the echo of it lives in the body for hours afterward, a reminder that resurfaces every time you shift your weight, every time you sit, every time your body moves against itself and finds me there, already waiting. The cane is my favorite. I will not pretend otherwise. There is a patience to the cane that suits me. The way you must take your time with it, must place it with intention, must understand that it is not a blunt instrument but a precise one. The marks it leaves are not accidents. They are calligraphy. Long and deliberate and raised against the skin like script, like something written, like the physical evidence of a conversation that only two people in the world were present for. I trace them afterward sometimes, these lines I have drawn on a body that belongs to me, and feel the same quiet satisfaction that I imagine a sculptor feels running a hand over finished stone. I made this. This is mine. You will carry this for days. And my own skin, where the energy moves through me like current, where the act of wielding produces its own particular heat, a tingling that lives in the palms and travels, that settles somewhere behind the sternum and glows. I glow. There is no more honest word for it. Something in me lights from the inside when I am in full possession of my own authority and someone is receiving it with everything they have. Neruda wrote that he wanted to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees, and I have always understood this not as tenderness alone but as inevitability, as the specific hunger of something that transforms whatever it touches simply by being what it is. That is what I want from you. Not your performance of devotion. Your actual transformation. I want to be the thing that happens to you, the season that changes the look of everything, so that you cannot see your own hands without thinking of what they are for, cannot move through a room without feeling the architecture of my expectations around you like a second skin. I want to wring you dry. Not cruelly. Completely. I want every thought that crosses your mind to carry my fingerprints on it, want you so thoroughly oriented toward me that pleasing me stops being a task and becomes simply the direction your nature moves, the way water moves downhill without deciding to. I want your first thought in the morning to be what She needs today and your last thought at night to be whether you gave it well enough. I want the obsession to be so total that it clarifies rather than confuses you, the way a religion clarifies the faithful, the way a vocation clarifies an artist who has finally stopped pretending they could have been anything else. Bring me what delights me. You know what it is because you have paid attention, because attention to me is the one thing I require above all others and you have either given it or you have not. By now we both know which. The particular tea, the correct temperature, in the cup that fits my hand the way I like. The flowers I mentioned once three months ago that I did not think anyone was listening to. The way a room should be before I enter it, the light and the temperature and the specific quiet that tells me someone has thought about me before I arrived. The knowledge, brought to me unprompted, of something I would want to know. The book left on my nightstand, the right one, chosen not from a list I gave you but from everything you have learned about the country inside my mind. Shower me in it until I glow. Charlotte Bronte understood this, I think, better than she is given credit for. Rochester did not love Jane Eyre the way men in novels usually love women, as a soft and worshipful thing, a pedestaling. He loved her with his whole difficult complicated weight, loved her as his equal and his better and his necessity, and she received it not with flutter but with the straight-backed dignity of a woman who has always known her own worth and was simply waiting for someone else to catch up. That is the love I recognize. Not the love that flatters but the love that sees, that is almost furious in its recognition, that cannot look away because looking away would require pretending the world is smaller than it is. Neruda again: I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees. Yes. And also: I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. The wanting in Neruda is never polite. It is consuming and precise and it names its object with the specificity of someone who has studied what they love until they know it better than it knows itself. That is the quality of devotion I am describing. Not the vague warmth of general affection. The focused, detailed, almost scholarly hunger of someone who has made another person their life's primary text. Learn me that well. Want me that specifically. Bring it to me not in grand declarations but in the ten thousand small and correct details that prove you have been paying attention every single day, that prove my preferences live in you the way music lives in a musician, available instantly, expressed naturally, impossible to separate from who you have become. And when I glow, and I will glow, when something in me settles into that incandescent satisfaction of being known and tended and

Eurythmics: Sweet Dreams “Some of them want to use you, Some of them want to get used by youSome of them want to abuse you, Some of them want to be abused.”

  I wrote that word control to you yesterday and it must have gotten deep into me. I woke up this morning so fucking wet and hot! Like I was right in the middle of some Daddy's masturbation...I was on my back, legs spread, rubbing my clit and mound, thinking of Daddy being under me, his cock rubbing my lips, telling me words of his encouragement and his control, deeply feeling my sexuality himself, telling me to spank my hood, which I never do, but it felt so right this morning, so I spanked it rhythmically, then back to massaging my clit and mound, going a bit harder and deeper with each back and forth, feeling Daddy's cock getting harder, his growls and voice deepening as he and I tuned into the groove of our joined pleasure.  I started spanking myself harder now, legs further apart, imagining his cock now dripping with pre-cum, inching it's way between my labia, feeling the pressure of just the head inside me, filling me just enough so we could be connected in passion. My mind slowly turning off, becoming totally his, his toy, his Daddy's precious love, as my rubbing got more robust, my internal dialogue starting to seep out into my voice with a moan a muffled cry for Daddy, Daddy, Daddy...until I hear his knowing! His understanding! His feeling! of me being ready, reaching the point of no return, the edge of the cliff of the frenzy for becoming one with him, giving myself to him, him owning me in this incredible throbbing pulsing intimacy of letting go into more Daddy Daddy Daddy I'm going to cum...and just faintly hear yes baby girl, yes, cum for me...and then I'm over the edge, flailing a bit, squirming, moving, thrusting to get his cock into my lips so he can feel my quaking my rupture, my cunt dripping with a gush, spasming...as Daddy holds me tight, firmly, let's me fly away with pleasure, in his arms, cumming strongly, with abandonment...his, found, grounded, complete, held...

I am looking for a rather extreme & piggy domestic slave & pup ----- I am looking for a very serious, committed, and submissive slave who is interested in a very controlling and quite sadistic anonymous cam master to start with. This is because I highly value my privacy at first, and cam is a good way for me to test your potential. I am rather unexperienced, but this is the lifestyle that I have now decided to pursue. So, I am ideally looking for a no-limit live-in piggy irl 24/7 servant, butler, handyman, pup, object and sex slave. A slave who lives to fulfil my every need is actually what I am looking for. I am also actually more into control than anything else, so a Gorean and Roman type of slave mixed with a mid-50's housewife would fit me nicely. All that being said I believe that it might realistically work best if I have a vanilla relationship, with the person, but where I am the king of the house and my partner knows his place as a no-limit live-in piggy irl 24/7 bf, servant, butler, handyman, pup, object and sex slave, doing all domestic chores, errands, renovation of the flat, labour work, etc... while I also control everything in his life. If that is you, or if that is what you want to become, don't hesitate to contact me - especially if body smells, careless general hygiene, and a little more extreme twist on things, don’t scare you off, but turn you on instead! If you contact me, send a detailed overview of your experience, expectations, current limits, and some recent pictures in your message. ----- I am also very interested in getting in contact with either an experienced master who could help me build up my knowledge and experience of many kinks, or an experienced slave who could mentor me while worshipping me.

Property.  Noun. 1. A thing or things belonging to someone; possessions collectively.  2. An attribute, quality, or characteristic of something.  I, am property. I don't always behave that way, but I should, because that is what I am. Master is a saint for how much patience he's had with me. Property doesn't have a say or an opinion. No voice, nothing. Change is not easy for me. To my brain it signals that there's a threat, danger, or that my world is going to be upended. I don't really know what to do with change, and abrupt change? Forget it. My brain either goes into full meltdown or fight mode. There is no in between. To be calm during changes means a meltdown later. Because I'm only calm outwardly. Inwardly I'm screaming for something to be the same, anything. Even a small thing. Master is that one thing. When my brain is screaming, he's there, steadfast and strong, unyielding and sure. I am his property. I don't get a say anymore. But I do get protection, care, and a Master who has always been there since day one. I'm property. A thing. His thing. Whenever, wherever, however he wants. His.  I am not looking for a response to this. I'm posting so that I can come back and read it when I need to. 

Really annoyed that my profile is now blank. I updated it two days ago, only changing my age and the date listed at the bottom as the last time it was updated, and yet there is nothing there, now. Here is what it should say:   I am not currently looking for a relationship. I have decided that I need to take some time to work on myself before considering pursuing another relationship.I am happy to talk to people, but please be respectful.  I am a geek, a gamer, an artisan, and a mom. I am not interested in anyone elses fetishes. I do not care if you are horny. I am not here to help anyone get off. None of my pictures are less than two years old. I no longer look like I do in them. I am slightly thinner -- I think I've lost about 50lbs since the most recent of these pictures were taken -- and my hair is about six inches long all over as I work on growing it back out after shaving it all off to an inch long. Updated February 28, 2024

Random (consensual) bondage fantasy:   The room is dark and quiet, lit only with some kind of blacklight, and maybe some creepy ambient bass-heavy background music is playing. The room is full of mirrors, which allows me to see both my perfectly done makeup and the bonds restricting my movements I'm bound by heavy rubber inflatable inner tubes from my chest (right below my bra) all the way down to my ankles, my arms pinned tightly to my sides and each ring fitting its respective section of my body snugly enough that I can't move an inch. They're also so thick once fully pumped up that my feet don't touch the ground. I'm left on the floor face down, unable to do anything except attempt to rock side to side or look in the mirror to see my pouty red lips wrapped firmly around my ball gag.  This whole time I can also feel the stretch of the buttplug that was put in me before I was put in the constricting grip of my inflatable bonds. My dom eventually enters the room, clad from head to toe in a heavy rubber catsuit and a latex hood that completely hides his face, saying little beyond asking if I'm ready for the load he's been saving all week, to which I affirmatively moan around the ball gag. He casually rolls me over so I'm lying face up, taking the ball gag out of my mouth before he unzips his crotch, pulls out his cock and kneels down and straddles my face.  He proceeds to slowly thrust into my mouth while I wrap my lips as tight as I can around his shaft, unable to do much more in my distended bonds, his movements gradually increasing in pace until he blows a huge load directly in my mouth, spurting one shot after another into the back of my throat while I do my best to hold it all in my mouth. He then pulls his cock from my mouth with a loud pop and tells me to open my mouth and show him the cum.  I open my mouth and show him the copious pool of semen in my mouth, playing with it until he tells me to swallow it all.  He then tells me he'll be back for more before he exits the room, leaving me still bound and unable to clean off any cum that may have spilled out of my mouth. He then comes back half an hour later, already ready to use my mouth again, but this time he props me sitting up against the wall so that he can get a better angle, and then proceeds to fuck my face again until he blows another load. He then leaves again, leaving me sitting slumped and bound against the wall. He eventually comes back one more time, brining me back to the floor turning me over so that I'm face down again and removing the inner tubes trapping my lower body in order to have access to my ass.  He slowly pulls down the back of my panties, takes out the buttplug and begins to finger me with a gloved hand, edging me with his fingers alone as he intermittently and quietly asks me questions about sucking his cock and about whether I want to cum, with me moaning and answering in the affirmative as he uses his edging to make me subtly beg.  He then pulls out his cock (and puts on a condom and plenty of lube) and proceeds to fuck me, using the inner tubes still binding my upper body as a makeshift cushion as his cock gets even harder and eventually swells and pulsates inside of me until I cum all over myself inside the front of my panties while he fills up the condom, finally spent once and for all. He helps me out of my bondage, never removing his mask or catsuit until I'm gone, going only by the pseudonym he gave me and the calling card he left for the next time I want to help him relieve some stress.

  Enjoy breath play particularly during oral as well as being an overall submissive. Not only just in the bedroom but with him in general; taking notice of his interest and hobbies. Using that to find ways to please him until he feels satisfied with the disappearance of nuance stresses that plague all of us everyday. Having a Dom relax and not worry what he does or says and takes a breather without having to refocus on his sub and their needs is what I like. I get along well with confident dominant types. Smooth/trimmed body with a large smooth bubble butt. Thick 7in circumcised with low hangers. Into 1950's D/s servitude lifestyle of doting and pamperingEnjoy being slightly bullied, pushed around, asked to do things/chores, under foot, subservient younger bro/Dom Big Scenario with a Straight Guy - Happened over time when my straight friends noticed I'm passive with them. Sometimes I open up and they roll with it. Nothing too crazy when we're out and about but they say its nice to know I'm the bitch in the room.

a throw back...then and now...how i talk about the spiritual dominant man and the slave woman referencing brooklyn baby in 2015 vs 2024. my writing and perspective growth   a bit not complete because the two service oriented and protection images i have shared back in 2015 cannot be added here due to the wonky layout of the site.   yes i've been writing about this for quite awhile on different platforms. i was going through my facebook where i first started writing this and trying to i don't know..gain some sort of dialogue, community, connection, recognition, semblance of back and forth over it back then and mostly stopping when i was met with silence and or resistance. nowadays i come to understand that my writings are more for me and while i'd love to find a community or people or to turn this into something more be ok if all that happens is it lands and holds a space on the sentience that is the internet! i wrote about my thoughts about brooklyn baby as the little girl and the daddy romantic power dynamic figure back in 2015.....somehow almost 10 years later i forgot about it.. and with my new lived spiritual, energetic, and cosmic awareness i recently wrote about it in 3-4 posts here. i asked my lovely chat assistant to compare and contrast...how do i approach the same lana del rey song  10 years ago vs now? what my writing style and my awareness used to be back then: "i was initially going to keep this on my fetlife side but after a request i am putting this on here too. dual post. talking about power dynamic stuffs, nothing sexually graphic but this is the okay with everything tag anyway so..ya know that'd be cool too .my vanilla friend on facebook posted a bunch of old 1950s ads which had of course a lot of natural male lead household media since that's how things were back then without options or visbilities of choice or other ways to live.   when i came across this one it made me a mix  of how cute, something i very much miss and one of those loss moments all into one.(first photo)this was the photo that stuck out the most to me. in both my  real life real time offline daddy/little girl relationships this was something that i frequently did and looked forward to doing on dates or as the first one when we eventually moved in together.it was comforting to have a routine to follow. to know what to expect was going to happen. it was safe and quieting for me to know that my man was safely allowing me to serve him in a way that was going to get rewarded, acknowledged, praised, and vauled for.it always goes back to this for me(second photo). added, i just found the full quote of where the second image takes its quote from..and it just fits what all of it was/what i wanted it to be/what i was hoping to get:"“I loved having a dad who was smarter than the New York Times, and I loved how my cheek could feel the hairs on his chest through his T-shirt, and how he always smelled like shaving, even at the end of the day. Being with him made my brain quiet. I didn't have to invent a thing.”― Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close"to find someone who makes me believe that they understand all of me and my crazy mentalness and the challeneges of my antisocial mom and all my brokenness and stays and commits to providing structure and care and rough brawns is just one of the biggest gifts in the world that could be given. and being able to care for them and thank them for the service and direction and guidance they provide is easy. is comforting and nice. with my first daddy parts of this translated into getting him his diet coke in the morning, picking out clothes for him, and getting his english muffin heated and buttered before he leaves for work. usually it invovled a kiss goodbye as well. i did this until he told me he no longer felt able or willing or wanting to be a daddy to me and he wanted us to be equals. after that i did it off and things just pretty much started to crumble after that...but while that was a standard for the 3 years we lived together i never felt obligated to...when i was sick he would do so. if i was late or off i would do what i could.  but i never felt obligated or had to or that it was out of my way to do so.with my last ex we never got to the point of living together. instead when i would go over to his house or i would rent hotels for us i would help him get dressed and i would usually buy him something to drink or some sort of item for breakfast. getting my daddy all set for his day was a big honor and fufilling feeling that i had. it was one of the top 5 things that felt right and complete for me.in return usually as with my first one he would help provide a chunk of the income to help take care of us and while i wanted to work full time i didn't find any full time work while we were togehter except the first few months of us being together. i would get tenderness and emotional care and consideration and gentle leading i never had. what i got in exchange just felt right.and in the further discussion of this and the ability of choice now my friend pointed out in regards to the times back then, 'wouldn't want to be frumpy' and thank goodness we don't have to be dressed up at all times.over the years i've changed and grown into being more femme with my outer apperance and playing with makeup. with my first daddy i didn't have that many clothes....but i did like dressing up for him. and with my last one of the things that just made all of my heart soar along with my little girl's heart and core was for him to take the time to commit to dressing me every day.this actually didn't work out because he started slacking and saying for me to just pick after he committed to it..one of the many signs...of course...but it went back to the safe contained space for mea safe contained space of my worthy man being able to take the time, energy, and effort to tell me how he'd like me to look like for the day.  the addition of no surprises and routine and knowing at all times i am to his pleasing. it was an intimate thing to be taken in and looked at and appreciated and fawned over for being such an addorble femme being. and one that was held and cherished and well cared for and taken like a prized possession. at least the idea that this was happening was. none of it was deameaning or a bother. i always had energy to get dressed up or to do what i can to help out. these are some of the things i miss the most and grieve over losing forever.funny how small little things bring  up things like this.i'm not sure why..but this song brooklyn baby by lana del rey really  fits the mood i'm expressing here. especially the vocal sound of it:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5xcnjAG8pE" i got a really sweet comment from someone that i'll anonymous share. it was the only comment i got from it, but on facebook back then pretty shocking i would've gotten any at all with a concept that radical back then. "J - I'm speechless. That was an incredibly powerful and beautifully written post! Truly! Thank you for sharing it here. All I can think of to say is that you are a very fine human being...and whomever you spend time with, they are LUCKY and fortunate to have found YOU. You are such a smart, beautiful and gifted soul. It's an honor to be your friend, my dear! ❤