Hey Mistress I am not your Mistress Sorry hello Ma'am how are you,Will you do to me the things you do?Whips and Canes and all that stuff,I have "sub" frenzy and can't get enough, Yes I will say all the right things but never do them true,I am a shadow wanker and cum while messaging you. *No I won't, you ignored my needs,

A Raven and a Wolf   He sat, kneeling really, slowly panting, under a soft leather hood. It was laced tightly, almost preventing his every breath. And in the darkness, under the hood, he strained his ears to hear whether she was near, or far. He inhaled, trying to find her scent, but could only smell the leather of the hood. He tried to feel if he could sense her presence closer, but nothing. The air was still. His mouth, dry from nerves, with lips slightly agape, didn't utter a sound.   So he waited, arms bound, shoulder back, chest forward and exposed. Uncomfortably upright.    She sat before him, watching him lazily, like how a cat does with a weakened mouse, very still. A hunter and their prey. She was breathing evenly to hide the excitement pooling inside of her. Hands encased in buttery soft lamb skin gloves, the color of his hood, the color of her whip, the color of blood. The color of her lips. A red so beautiful. Her eyes sparkled at the idea of it coming from his body. Beautiful and broken. She could sense he was searching for her; a slight turn of the head, listening, perhap? Leaning forward gently; trying to smell? Like a dog, she thought, just like a dog. And she sat there far longer than even she desired to see how far this "dog" would go.    "Bark, dog" she commanded in a low voice  And he barked immediately, no hesitation. She pulled back her hand and slapped him, his head jerked, body lurched, chest rising and falling rapidly. A noticeable difference between his legs. There it was again, a hunger to bite into him. Taste his blood. Consume him. But only silence. No whimper, no moan, not a sound escaped him. She wondered if he were bleeding from his cute little mouth. Again she slapped him. Softer than the first, a loving caress, bits of his hair peeked through the laces of the hood and she wanted to grip them and tear them away. Would he let her? Perhaps.    The next slap, and the one after, opposite hand, and he fell forward just enough that his face touched her thighs only separated by the hood and her own stockings. The rule was he wasn't allowed to touch her unless she said. This was a broken rule, however accidental. She stood and let him slump forward in a stupor, supported only by the tension of the rope tied to the foot of the bed.   Bark, dog. Dog. He barked.  Up, dog, and he returned to his previous place, exposed and upright. She stepped forward, the toe of her shoe pressing down on the sensitive flesh of the head of his dick. She crushed it gently until he sat even straighter. She held his head in her left hand, caressed it gently, leather on leather. The smell intoxicating her. Raising her right hand she slapped him again, over and over until her hand grew hot even under the glove. Was he bleeding? She hoped so. She hoped to kiss him and bite his lips and taste his blood. She wished she could see his eyes, dazed, glassy, far away. She caressed his head. And whispered, "you may touch me" and he pressed his face into her hands, her thighs. Still no sound, he was so silent.   "Bark, my handsome boy" and he barked, hoarse and painful as she encircled his neck with her hands. This was his idea, he had inspired in her a lust for choking him until he was nothing and drifting away in the ether. She squeezed, her hands perhaps too small, until he gurgled. She wondered if his eyes were open or if they were dimmed. The hood obscured so much. She squeezed until he seemed to go limp. And she let him. Shoulders yanked uncomfortably under his weight.    He awoke. Arms aching, face hot but no longer enclosed by the hood. He could see her though his vision lacked acuity. She was standing over him, wrapped in pink except for gloves. He yearned for them then. Yearned for them to be around his neck, feeling the bones of her fingers threatening his very life. He wanted to ask for it, for her to choke him, strangle him, but knew it was to her whim that he obeyed. Obeisance was her pleasure. He looked at her, eyes soft, left cheek swollen, lips split ever so slightly and she leaned down and kissed him, sliding her tongue over the drying blood. He kissed her back, gentle, but hungry.    Her kiss was soft but grew more passionate until she bit him and suckled his mouth. Did he love this part of her? The softness before the sting.  She broke the kiss. Her lipstick perfect but her mouth and chin stained crimson with what must have been his blood. "Open your mouth, I'd like to try" she said softly. A shy whisper. So unlike the command to "Bark".  He angled himself upright, head back, lips parting painfully like a little bird. She leaned forward and let her own saliva pool in her mouth and slowly let it fall into his. He shuddered. His excitement excited her and she kissed him again before he could even swallow but this time it was wild and wet. Her saliva all over his mouth, chin, cheeks.    "I have to whip you now, are you ready?" She asked and he nodded. A question was not a command to speak. Dogs do not speak unless commanded to speak. She untied him and his body fell forward. Not used to its old range of motion. His limbs buzzed from having sat in one position for too long. He wondered about how much time had passed. Funny thing, time. Why did it matter now when he was in the moment with her.   Without the hood he realized he could smell her. A warm sweet scent, perhaps arousal. And he thought then about being forced to please her like they talked about in passing, forced until exhausted and even beyond. After play. Her, in her pink, looked like candy and he wanted to lick her. She must be sweet.      She looked down at him and his face was peculiar, his mind was somewhere else and he looked rather cute. But she was jealous at the idea that his mind wasn't on her and she kicked him in the stomach to bring him back to her. He coughed and curled up as she walked to retrieve her whip, preparing for the next step in her courtship.  "Up" she commanded and he got to his feet, winded, bruised. Arms still behind his back. She released them to tie them around the post of the bed. The bed post being the whipping post, isn't it somehow romantic, she thought.    "If you need me to stop, tell me, I won't be gentle otherwise" she said to him, her mouth on his ear. His hair was slicked down with sweat and he smelled musky. She liked his smell. She bit his earlobe and stepped back a couple of feet and threw the whip. Lash after lash until he tried moving away. Pulling at the post until it creaked. She wanted him to cry but he only moaned and groaned, no tears. Just a brow drenched in sweat as his back went from fine pink lines to slowly oozing wounds. If he didn't give her tears then she would have blood.  He pulled desperately as if trying to escape her and she threw the whip furiously, lashing whatever she could reach, his ass, thighs, calves, neck, even the back of his head. The post groaned as if it would break under the strength of him trying to flee.   "Do you want to get away from me?" She asked. His breathing heavy, labored, his body wobbled as blood poured from him, he shook his head no, weakly, and looked over his weeping shoulders with hazy eyes. Finally he spoke, a clear and clean "No, ma'am" from his lips now dry from mouth breathing, swollen from having been bitten and slapped.   The no rang through her body and she leapt at him and kissed and licked his mouth, his shoulders, his back. Barely containing her arousal, her hips moving in slow circles. She was so hungry.&n

My parents have accidentally almost killed my dog. Twice.  I had a small surgery yesterday and they are here to "help." Twice now they have put their stash of daily old people pills in places easily accessible to the puppy and the bags ended up in her mouth. Last night she chewed a hole in the bag and for sure ate a fish oil pill. It's questionable as to if she ate a piece of a beta blocker. Luckily I caught her before she could gobble up any others, and she seems to be alright. Holy shit though, that was close. The closing conversation went something like this: Me: Can you keep the bags on the counter where she can't reach them? Parent: I'll keep them in my pocket. Me: Can you keep them on the counter since we know she can't reach them? Parent: I'll keep them in my pocket. Me: Can you keep them on the counter?  Parent: Yes.  Me: *trying to keep my cool, not kick my parents out of my house early, monitoring my dog for signs of beta blocker consumption, oh, and fucking staying awake since I just took pain medicine* Some of us are not going to make it through the week if I don't stay hyper fucking vigilant. At this point in my life I'm okay with becoming an orphan if necessary.

Who’s time is it anyway?   I would not take to property any slave that was not totally My property.   On more than one occasion, I have had prospective slaves misunderstand time. The slaves in question have offered non specific time instead of a definite time I directed.    Some slaves are journalling at My request. I direct them to make daily submissions to Me at a specific time each day; a time of slave’s choice. Many respond by offering a non-compliant time. They might offer to obey direction for journal submission the morning or evening of each day.   That broad a time frame may be convenient for the slave. A non-specific time may work well in their life.    The basic problem is the idea that the slave has the option to arrange its life for its convenience. The slave seems to hold the belief that time belongs to it to manage. A total slave owns nothing, especially time. Time is one of the many things that are in the province of its Owner. Having it operate as a supplicant on My time frame teaches it the lesson about, “Who’s time is it anyway.”

So some people don't like someone contacting them telling them what they are into, like it's some sort of afront, like they can't have kinks, because you know, it's all about me.   But here's the kicker, it isn't all about you, it about a mtually beneficial arrangement.  If one side is not having their needs and desires met, then they will lose interest. And if someone writes to you and says hey, I like you profile, I'm into... Maybe they're just excited, maybe your profile excited them enough to open up. Unless the message is basically them demanding you do stuff to them without negotiation, then what's the harm really? This is not from a place of experience, I myself do not contact people and go hey I love being humiliated do you like that? Because it's not how I am, I'm a little less excited about this lifestyle after 30+ years in it. But that doesn't mean I don't get excited, it just means I take my time doing it. So don't be harsh on people if they get excited by you, to be fair it's probably a compliment. Anyway, stay safe, have fun

On Needing to Disappear for a Minute I need to reset. I am saying that plainly and without the elegance I usually bring to these entries because I do not have the energy for elegance right now and this space has always been about honesty first. The job market is the worst I have navigated in my adult life and I have the specific evidence to prove it. Three interviews. Three. Each one carrying the particular weight of hope that you cannot help but attach to something that feels like forward motion after so long standing still. The first position was eliminated and outsourced overseas before I made it to the final round. Not a reflection of my qualifications. Simply the mathematics of a company deciding that my expertise was purchasable more cheaply somewhere else. I understand how that works and understanding it does not make it feel less like a door closing in my face. The second went to an internal candidate, which is the corporate equivalent of being told the position was never really available to you, that the search was a formality, that you dressed up and prepared and showed up and performed well for an audience that had already made its decision before you walked in. I gave that interview everything. I always give everything. That is both my greatest quality and, in moments like this one, my greatest vulnerability. The third was a scam. I do not have more words for that because the anger I feel about it is still too hot to be articulate. Someone manufactured an opportunity specifically to waste the time and energy of people who are already desperate and running low on both. I was one of those people. I am still furious. I cannot find work. I am saying that without softening it because softening it would be a lie and I am too tired for lies. I have been searching with the focused intensity I bring to everything and the market is returning silence and rejection and the specific cruelty of the scam dressed as opportunity. I am scared in a way I do not often admit to being scared because fear has never served me particularly well and I have always moved through it rather than sitting in it. Right now I am sitting in it. I am tired and I am angry and underneath both of those things I am frightened about what comes next. And Chicago. The possibility of leaving Chicago sits on me like something I cannot put down. I have fought for this city. I have stayed for my children, for the roots I have grown here across years of building a life in neighborhoods that became part of my identity. Pilsen and South Shore and Bronzeville, the specific texture of this city that I carry in my body. The idea of leaving it does not feel like a fresh start. It feels like one more thing this season is taking from me, and this season has already taken considerably more than its share. I need to go somewhere. Briefly, urgently, in the way that a person needs air when the room has become too small. Not a vacation, I do not have the resources for a vacation, but a change of coordinates. A different sky. The particular reset that only physical distance from your own life can produce, where you sit somewhere unfamiliar and your problems remain your problems but they lose, temporarily, the specific weight of being inescapable. I have been having dark thoughts, and I am telling you that because this space has always held the full truth and the full truth is that a season this relentless starts to bend the mind toward conclusions it would not otherwise reach. I am not in danger. I know myself well enough to know the difference between despair and crisis. But the despair has been real and it has been sustained and I am not going to dress it up as something more manageable than it actually is. What I know is this: I am still here. Still building, even when the building looks like sitting still. Still the woman I have always been, even when that woman is exhausted and frightened and grieving a city she has not yet left. I need the reset. I need the road or the train or even just a weekend somewhere that is not inside my own four walls. I need to remember that I am larger than this moment even when this moment feels total. I will be back. I always come back.   But first I need to breathe somewhere new.

Her hands held the pen, the black ink swirling across the page as she signed the contract. The last time she would ever see her real name, the last time her date of birth would even matter. She paused, holding her breath in her shuttering lungs… and as the seconds ticked by like years, her lung’s released and the chime rang. The electronic paper instantly sealed the contact and the encryption code saved to the nanochip.A metal arm came from the wall, and in a quick second her eyes blinked, and the chip engaged.She was still her, her personality, her smile, her spirit, but her body now belonged to the New American Order. She fought as long as she could, the price of housing and food had risen so high she was living so poorly. They had removed all unchipped teachers long ago, uncipped could not work jobs that paid in NAObitcoin. She could only get paid in paper money which only unchipped could spend. The black market was dangerous and she knew the consequences.The government now allowed people to elect to be chipped as household wifes. They would live a normal life, raising children, and making their families a unit, and thus rebuilding the community which once made this nation strong.She was a beautiful women, her long auburn hair landed in near perfect curls, her beautiful eyes could sink the universe. She held a PHD and would make an excellent home school teacher for a man who had a large family.She sat in the chair, gripping the skirt if the dress, and staring at the wall. A screen came on and the host started talking.“Gentlemen of the NAO tonight we have a wonderful selection of wives. They have all signed in willingly so there are no confinement rules for these women. Lets get started.”The door to her room opened and she stepped in to the hall. She took the step and closed her eyes, her sister got a nice man, they are so happy. She was going to have the same, she knew it.“First we have this beautiful older model, she will bare no children, but she is sweet and caring. She has a good voice, pleasant demeanor, tested level 9/10 in cooking and house keeping, she scored 10/10 in intellect. As you know gentlemen she will be tested for sexual abilities, her current rating in the outside was 4.6 so definitely above average but those chipless have no idea.”The door opened at the end of the hall, she walked quickly to the door, she had watched this millions if times on the tele. It had become required viewing but the poor only got to see the limited view, they put so many propaganda commercials in the show it was hard to really understand what was happening.The men in the room were all high class government officials, they were all men who had created the order, and their first wives were probably in work camps, or dead from the war. The rebels attacked their homes and wives, so many ran to other countries at the end of the war. Now other countries were turned to watch as NAO rebuilt and became the world leader of technology and education.The days of the starving poor was over, well as long as you chipped up. If you were a normie your life didnt change except you had no rent, no bills, but you worked for the government and ate what the government gave you. It wasnt a horrible life, you married in your class, and lived happy. The problem came with people like her. She was smart enough to live with out the system, pretty enough to be a wife, refined and well skilled, and her date rating put her on their radar.She only signed up to find a match, she was sick of her lonely home. They just started letting nochips on the site and she knew better!When her rating hit its highest the rent in her area went up, the power for vehicles tripled, food prices doubled. She got a speeding ticket and that was it… she couldn’t pay her rent… and there Lacy was, to offer her a spot in the highest ranked tv show in the History of the planet. It was required watching in the NAO and many international countries allowed their citizens to watch and participate, part of the new Jenniva treaty.So here she was, the room was black, the ceiling back, the bed and everything painted in the darkest black. She stepped to the door and the door behind her shut.“Remove your dress and precede to the bed.” The audience wouldnt see anything, its black, there is no light, but there are speakers and they can hear everything. She pulled her dress off and sat it next to the bed. She was stark naked, her large breasts we’re hanging from her, her body shivered as her hair tickled her back. She crouched down and lay down on the bed.“Place your right hand on the board. Place your left hand on the left board.” Her arms moved and then click the magnet locked, they had implanted her with magnets and chips throughout her body. The lights clicked off. For a second she could hear movement and then the headphones clapped down on her head. Hands ran down her body and the audience cheered as the meter stared to rise. His hands found her face and he pulled her in to a kiss, his tongue darting about and dancing with hers. His other hand found her pussy, and he clamped his hand down. The meter went to 1.0, and then his finger slipped inside, her body wetting for him, his head tilted, and his eyes flickered in to the darkness. “Ohhh a fun one.” He whispered in her ear. His fingers began working her clit and her body responded, he rubbed and twisted and pulled as she moaned loudly. Her chip holding her back from orgasm but leaving her right in the edge. He paused, and his mouth found her breasts which made her moan loudly again as the meter kept rising 3.0,4.0,7.0. The crowd started to whisper as no one had ever gotten higher than 8 and she was just starting. He pressed his cock against her, his large head pushing hard, as her rating went higher, and then he pushed in, hard. His huge cock filling her and pushing hard against the top of her as she moaned loudly, the harder he pushed the rougher he got the more she moaned and flooded him. Her hips moved with his, drawing him deeper, harder as she ground herself in to him. He reached up and put his hand on her neck, the default for allowing an orgasm during testing and she came. Her vagina pressed in on him pulsating hard as he continued to pound her, she came hard over and over moaning loudly. He stopped for a second and stepped back. “Turn over.” Her wrists released, and she flipped over, she had not had sex like this in years, she forgot it was anything other than a glorious night of love. He gripped her hips and pressed his cock in to her ass, as she arched her back and moaned out loudly. He started to work her ass slowly and then harder and harder pounding her hard. She shook as his hips hit her ass with a force she couldn’t believe. It almost took her breath how hard and good it felt. He reached up and grabbed her hair and held it tight slamming in to her harder, his other hand found her clit. He wouldn’t let her cum, he had decided now she didn't get anymore, they were all his. He pressed harder and harder, her body sweating and her breathing rough he continued, as he came he slapped her ass hard. The number blinked on the wall 8.7 highest first test score. The room blacked.. the commercial started, and men whispered among themselves.“I think i might have enough to purchasing that one.” A tall dark gentleman spoke. The room fell silent, as a bell rang which meant a second test was requested. The testing fee was not cheep, but someone needed to know her limit.Two men with night vision glasses came in and helped her straddle a round saw horse, her leg magnet locking in place, her wrists, she could no longer move.“Its time for the maximum orgasm test!” The host spoke in an over excited tone, his own body reacting to the sights. The lights turned off and above her head a digital board read 4.“According to the chip she has already orgasmed 4 times, remember folks the highest score ever is 70, in 2hours and 10 min. Once we start this test we will continue the auction.She was cold, but as soon as she felt it the sensation went away, the chip overriding the warning. A buzz starts in the background and her body starts to prepare, the sound of a milker clicking away behind her also made her body react. The buzz and tick tick take her in to a trance, and her body relaxes. He inserts a large 1 inch dildo inside if her, he clips the vibratior clamp on her clit as she lets out a loud yelp.“Mute her please.” The host says quietly. The man hits a button and her moans quiet and she starts to orgasm.“Oh no not yet kitten we aren’t even there yet.” His deep voice echoed in her ear, as thr command found its protocol, her body slowed the orgasm, and then liquid squirts on her ass as he presses in and works a large plug, its vibrations start to sink with the dildo. Her entire body clamped down, which only made the sensation stronger as she orgasmed hard. "oh yeah I should… release." as the word echoed in her empty mind the orgasms rushed in..10,11,12,13… her biometric system counting orgasm after orgasm.He smiled in to the dark as the goat milker cups attached to each breast and turned on low, then higher and higher, as it sucked her 38h breasts deep in to the glass, 22,23,26.He stood there watching with his night vision , his prize will be a percentage of her price, 30,31,32. He grabbed a flogger and whipped her ass hard, a flood of orgasms came in 41,43,44. He spanked her again, 50."Gentlemen our special purchase has hit 50! can you believe that? alright next is 35, rating 4.5, cooking 6 but comes with optional upgrade option, overall sex rating 8 with a maximum daily use 3 times… the bidding starts at her debt to the NAO of 100 Naobitcoins. Let the game begin. " the host pointed to the screen where bids were flying in from all over the world."The timer has started… bids are up to 2,000… 2,300… 3,2,1. 2,600 NAOBC… And your name is Cynthia. congratulations and may you live in the peace of your submission. " the audience said along with the host."now were are we at with our live test… 67 in 30 min, 68,69,70! she beat the record! She sucked breath in to her lungs as her body just kept going, she was dripping with sweat, her body begging for help, her moans muted her voice box turned off as she cameover and over. The machines clicked off her body shivered, and the chip took over, her hands and legs released as she stood, her brain not fully functioning. She walked to the bed her legs shaking and pulled her dress on. A door opened to a bathroom, an entire crew of beauty and glamor experts stood there. They had one commercial break to make her look fresh. She was pushed in to a shower the water spraying up and down on her in all directions. The water turned to warm air as she stepped from the shower dry and clean, the stockings slid on and clipped in to a pink and black garter. the corset top clipped in to place and then tied tight. her dress was slid over her head, and tightened down. Her hair was twisted and twirled and her makeup went on fast, a blinking light told the crew it was time.“Gentlemen it is time. How much would you pay? The time starts now…..” the     

Him: I want to have a 1950s style relationship with you! Me: Then why did you contact me?  Him: I just said. I want to have a 1950s style relationship with you. Me: But you are white. Him: Is that a problem? Me: In the 1950s, it would have been illegal for us to have a relationship.  Him: So? Me: So, a 1950s style relationship between us would involve us not having a relationship. Him: Some people did it, didn't they? Me: Illegally, involving scandal and and the likelihood of violence and likely damage to at least one partner's class status. Him: It could not have been all that bad. Me: Loving vs. Virgina happened one year before I was born. Lynchings are still not unheard of. Him: . . .  Me: Toodles!

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

i stay stresssed out and depressed all the time anymore its hard for me to think its hard for me finding someone to be in my life when your family mistreats you your thinking pattern gets off of what you was going to do with screaming and yelling at me all the time it never fails i speak i get jumped on for breathing or moving 16 years of there mouths and mentally i really take much more it's killing me mental im already dead on the inside but idiots  doesn't care about me my feelings or my needs they dont care if i die anyways they tell me to kll myself nobody wants your stupid ass anyways fucking whore your nothing but a worthless piece of ass nobody wants ... and one cop in my hometown october said your ruthless piece of ass nobody wants when i was living at the apartment i was at so i stopped socializing i stop going to the store i busted my phone so i wouldn't have to deal with stupid ass bullies and i am at my breaking point and my landlord would let who ever in my aprtment because in august i was watching tv an smoked a joint before i went to bed an took my mucsle relaxer and then who ever had a key to my apartment did something because i was stiff an couldn't move and woke up next morning couldn't hardly move my right arm the second night they molsted me in my sleep and i can't walk for a week... they grab my right foot that is how i knew an i checked my self and i got pissed off them letting people in my apartment landlord was a jealous jesus christ freak that almost got me raped... i have no trust left with anybody at this point because when i do they abuse me 

This is something I wrote. . . . . .Why did you make me do it -I remember, and tears of anger will not stop, the time you forced me to strip that night knowing that others might see.Why did you make me do it -I remember, and I have to hold my arms tight to stop the shivering, that time you said your demanding friend was going to fuck me.Why did you make me do it -I remember all of the times your eyes watched from miles away as you made me perform on webcam debasing myself for your pleasure and I have to try and calm my heart as it beats in my chest and my breath catches in my throat.How could you make me do that -the countless times I stood in front of a mirror and looked at bruises and marks on my skin and felt fear as you left, wondering if you would return.What would make you do that -I re-live the times your hands were around my throat, breath withheld, as you pounded between my legs and I cannot put into words the fear I feel.Why do you make me do this -my hands tremble as I remember the times i stood naked before you made me wear the clothes of your choosing and sat watching to make sure my makeup was applied perfectly.How could you make me do this -my stomach tightens as I remember the, oh so many, times on my knees begging or with my mouth wrapped deep onto your prick in the hope I would please you.How can you make me do this –and I feel like screaming those word for the world to hear as I cled my hands together and can feel the rope you used to bind my wrists and even the belt that lashed my ankles tight as you left me on that cold floor and I know I cannot forgive you.How can you make me do this -my world is coming to an end, how can I live without your hands on me. Without your control and love where will my submission go?How can you make me go to that fucking University when I wish, and want, and need, and desire, and long to stay at your feet.How can you make me leave you for those three long years when all I want to do is stand naked before you and see the love in your eyes as you look back at me and the pride I see, when dressed, I am lead out on that, oh so, delicate silver chain that pulls at my collar.My body reacts as every memory comes back, vivid as if those wondrous things happened only yesterday, and you are forcing me to lose those joys.Why do you make me hate you for doing the right thing in letting my world expand, why do you make me do this?When all I want to do is serve?

I'm sorry to my lover.I'm sorry I'm so unrefined;to leave all the things we hadbehind. No one has a smileFor a ship sinking a mile,Or a satellite gone astray.So I say.I sow sorries.Across these distances;I should have stayed in yourembraces, liberating me. I know you wantedto save me and hold me -wash my sins away.But I run away.So you say.No one can be our witness,No one can understand us.And when we misunderstandeach other we become pointless.I am not saying I know why.I am not sayingI can justify or rectify a goodbye.But I already miss you andthese sorries are bearing a cost.I am so lost without you,And feel my sorries are pointless, too.-dirtydarling

Details of the suckler: This was a girl I met at a bar on the 4th of July. This relationship was about a year and a half long. She was a cute, petite brunette who only weighed 100 lbs. As we started dating, I came to realize how submissive she was by nature and very eager to please me. Our unofficial "dom/sub" relationship included her cooking, doing laundry, preparing my lunch, and other domestic duties. Early on she told me how she really liked sucking my dick, even that she considered herself a "suckler". She didn't have to tell me twice. Blowjobs became more and more frequent. Eating dinner, watching TV, reading, and she might move over to take my cock in her mouth, sucking to her heart's content. When I'd come home, her mouth would be there to greet me. In the car, I'm driving and without a word, she'd unzip my pants and pull my cock out. She’d smile, unbuckle, and use her wet mouth on me. We also explored some light bdsm stuff, blindfolds or me holding her down. She did was she was told and she liked it. I never asked how she wanted to be fucked. Whether I came in her pussy, gave her a facial, in her mouth to swallow, or on her tits, she graciously accepted it.  She was an agreeable slut. This relationship ended when I took a new job, and its the one I regret that didn't work out.

Ok so I don't know but I have this vision in my mind of me serving  a strong woman she has silver hair and loves and expects me to be at my best and in my  dreams I do  in them I begin my day at the foot of her bed awakening before her to be able to prepare for her i wash and shower make her coffee begin her breakfast make sure everything is clean and straighten up before she wakes up I draw a bath make her toast and kneel at the side of the bed and slowly kiss her feet and up her body this normally wakes up her happy and refreshed but today seems different she simply lays on her back and says I have to pee I'm not used to this but I'm prepared I grab a towel climb on the bed between  her legs put the towel under me just in case and attach  my mouth to her she releases herself very slowly allowing me to breathe and swallow it's quite sour being her first of the day but I know from experience that this is what she wants and my best course of action is to drink her clean her and allow her to go back to sleep as I'm thinking this I notice the stream has stopped and she's pushing my head , she quietly  says clean me  and I run an fetch a warm washcloth I wipe her and she rolls over and says I'm still tired and would like to sleep turn off the shower and coffee and go do the laundry be back here at 8am and wake me up by massaging and kissing my back I expect the laundry to be done and I would like oatmeal instead of toast now I have my task and an hour to complete them    this is normally when I wake up with a raging hardon and I gotta admit I always feel a  little dirty like is there something wrong with me for wanting this type of relationship?       it's October and the submissve inside of me wants to be allowed out to play i do a pretty good job at surp them have for a few years now  But can I tell you how bad I yearn to be slapped smacked and spit on i really really love to be used and abused and honestly it's been too long 

Master's WritingsSadomasochistic Play and the Importance of ConnectionIt is too easy when participating in Sadomasochistic play of any kind, be it impact, pain play or any other of the associated fetishes, for the experience to become emotionally and even physically disconnected between partners - the Sadist becoming consumed by their connection to their tool (whip, cane, etc), the precision of their strikes, the technique used, and the masochist becoming lost in the enormity of the sensation, the loss of physical control as the pain increases and the anticipation of the next strike. As both become lost in their own world within the scene, it is easy to experience a loss of connection between them as the scene progresses.I find that maintaining or even working to build greater connection during such play is one of the most important things I can do as a Sadist and a Dominant. For me as a Sadist, who is also a Dominant and a Daddy, I find that there exists a uniquely rich opportunity to be a caring and connected Sadist, through physical contact, the use of voice and deliberate and careful observation that goes beyond the safety aspaspaspects during a scene are very important in changing a sadomasochistic scene from something done to the masochist to a shared experience that binds rather than separates.In all my play, regardless of the fetish, I seek to create experiences that enrich, nourish and build relationship. While not every scene or situation can accomplish these every time, they remain a goal I strive for whenever possible.

I don't date Christians, they get all weirded out by my religion I am Socialist/Communist, I am as Liberal as it gets and I dislike Conservative politics with a passion!!! I am introverted but I still go to protests and take part in activism. I do a lot of things to make the world a better place and there is no excuse for anyone to not try when they live on this planet. Unless you live in a country other than the US LGBTQ+ is VERY much legal and I am part of LGBTQ+ Reading is great, must read at least 12 books (for pleasure) a year I don't do exercising, sports, etc the things I enjoy are various forms of gaming. I am a geek and a nerd and only date people who are as well I have 4 cats, I think of them as my children (and they are the only kind of kids I am planning on having), anyone who doesn't love cats isn't welcome in my life Edited to add - With the repel of Roe I am requiring men to have a vasectomy or be okay with having sex with condoms for the foreseeable future

It is important to note that the specific tasks assigned to a submissive in a BDSM relationship can vary greatly and should be mutually agreed upon by all parties involved. However, some examples of tasks that a submissive might be assigned include: Cooking and cleaning the house Running errands or completing specific tasks as requested by the dominant Maintaining a specific appearance or dress code Engaging in specific sexual acts or role-playing scenarios Following strict rules or protocols Participating in BDSM activities such as bondage or impact play Participating in BDSM rituals or ceremonies. It is important to remember that BDSM should always be safe, consensual, and respectful. All parties involved should communicate their boundaries and desires clearly and negotiate any tasks or activities beforehand.

This past week was superb!   Had a few friends over for a turkey dinner I made.  Brined the 15 lb turkey in a sugar and salt brine, then AIR fried it.  The bird was done in 3 hours and ready to mate up with the other sides I made.   I enjoy my time in the kitchen as it relaxes me.  My friends continually rave about my cullenary skills.  Part of the fun of entertaining during the holidays is being free about who you are, what you enjoy and being able to share it with your friends.   Yes, the ladies are collared by their owners, including my friend Veronica, who brings her lovely slave girl Jessica.  Set the table for 9, myself and my four couples.  Turkey, dressing, green beans, hot rolls, mashed potatoes and gravy, and of course a white wine.  I was asked when I would find a woman to wear my collar again.  Said that was up to the good Lord himself, and maybe a bit of luck and reckoning. Been single again now for 3 years, and have not been actively looking too much.   When / if it happens again, I am hopeful her training will not be too stressful for her.  Holidays are so much fun, even with the games we play.  Sometimes the single life does suck, but I am not hurry to cross over and explore the alternative quite yet, Lord be willing!   Thats all for now youall, I will try to post again after the holidays..  

TO ANYONE WHO BLOCKED ME OR GHOSTED ME Thank you. When a person ghosts or blocks me I think it says more about them than it does about me. When someone ghosts or blocks me I say a little prayer. Well, that's not the first thing I do. The first thing I do is to probably to say a few little curse words --- just a few of my favorites --- and then I say a little prayer. I say the prayer because I am thankful that I dodged a bullet. I think that people who ghost or block others are weak and cowardly. They don't have the strength of character, integrity, honesty, or courage that I want, in fact, require in anyone that I am associated with whether it be a friend, a submissive, a colleague, or anyone else. They are doing me a favor by ghosting or blocking me because I am better off without them.  

Created using the words from a conversation between Myself and a female Dom about who was a better dominant  . .   My books are the marks on your skin as I play   My dvds are your muscle twitches that dance   My music your sighs, and cries, as I touch with kisses of fire   That touch makes you lose your mind     My taunts change the weak girl into a strong sub   The glint in my eye fills you with an eagerness to please   For I am as constant, pure, cold and loving as a God.   I AM DOM   I am merciful, I give pain     These are the elements that inflame undreamt of submission   My domination transforms pain into devotion, into worship   The knowledge that you are owned burns to the core   I own, manipulate, crush and build.   I enrapture     I pry open your hidden self and give peace   I show the path and watch as you struggle to take it   I shall alight my lips on your skin and you will be reborn   I give you life afresh     Your history, your future, your now, all reside in ME   I give you freedom. You obey to belong  

Things I need - i.e.- things you can offer It comes up a lot that subs write me with their list of wants. Usually, they don't bother to ask what I want. Occasionally, there will be a subbie that realizes that in a sea of "gimmie gimmie" they may actually have to offer to GIVE something in return. The brightest of them (very rare) offer before they ask to receive. They look for a way to make themselves useful, to offset the cost of the time they want me to give them. Because let's face it - if I'm spending X hours talking to them, getting to know them, negotiating their interests and limits, prepping for activities, tying/spanking/torturing/disciplining/yada yada,.... that's X hours out of my own life that I'm not getting stuff done around here. While it can be fun to do the doing part, it hardly ever actually happens, so all the time I invest in it was wasted unless they are reciprocating something. In the spirit of making it easy for the hopeful sub with a clue, here's a few things I need done or help doing that would ingratiate them to me. I need basic general housekeeping for my crazy chaotic house- dishes washed, litterboxes scooped, laundry put away, kitchen cleaned and organized... Yes, all of this could be done nude or in a maid's costume if that tickles you. I always need deep tissue therapeutic massage. Non-sexy kind. Neck, shoulders, hips, feet... I do a lot of stuff, and I wear myself out a lot. It hurts. I need someone who is good working on a roof - I need help getting the roof itself painted with a white radiant barrier. (No, that CAN'T be done nude or in a maid's costume. Nothing outside can. We don't involve the neighbors or advertise our kink. You can cross-dress for it, but it has to be appropriate to the task and setting.) I need assistance getting cinderblock pillars built on the edge of my yard, covered in molded cement stones, and the faux wrought iron fence sections installed between them. I need garden and landscape help. I need help figuring out how to lower the temperature upstairs in my sister's part of the house in summer. I could use some help working on my truck. Occasionally I reach the limits of my abilities with it, and finding a decent mechanic is rare. I need to organize my garage and my basement. I need to dig out my basement and move the dirt to a specific I need to finish the drywall in the upstairs bedroom. I plan to renovate my bathroom. Anyone with plumbing experience or skills laying marble tile would be welcome. I always have a project or ten in the works on top of everything else. Feel free to ask about them. Even if you just ask, it shows me that you at least read, and that you are considering the balance of effort. That sets you ahead of 90% of the messages I get. And yes, if you are too far away to come do any of these things in person, but want to have something to offer, I do have an Amazon Wishlist, which I can share with you by request.

If you found a normally locked door unlocked, wouldn't you worry?  I went away for the long weekend and came back last night after dark. Unloading the car, putting things away, blah blah. I stopped and looked at the kitchen door. Unlocked. I lock every door when coming in out of habit. Unlocked. I start looking around, checking closets, go downstairs, check that door, the windows. Nothing. Nothing looks missing. Eventually I head upstairs, with a kitchen knife. Okay, with two kitchen knives because what if the person waiting to murder me knocks the first one out of my hand? Secret knife in my hoodie pouch.  Now, you're probably saying but you have a dog, she will attack. I would think so, too. What she did was walk upstairs and go straight to her bed. The weekend wore her out. I was on my own. You might also think that's a good sign if she doesn't hear or smell anything unusual. She also has walked right by french fries and never noticed. Let's not count on her awareness to save the day. Back to me. Back when I was paranoid I bought a, what are those things called, the zapper thing, because I don't know how to use a gun and I would probably shoot a hole into my closet and ruin several of my favorite dresses. I went to get that to continue my search and it was dead. Why would I keep it charged? Indeed. Kitchen knife and secret hoodie knife it is. Every closet, peeled back the shower curtain, looked under every bed. Checked my jewelry. All fine. And then I closed and locked the bedroom door and wound a belt around the handles and slept with the tv on.  What about the kitchen door? All I can think is I missed relocking it the last time I went out. You better believe I won't be doing that again any time soon. The kitchen knife and secret hoodie knife are still on the nightstand. 

You have to appreciate when someone goes the extra mile to let you know they aren't stalking you, they just like your journal. Nothing ridiculous has happened lately and I haven't felt like diving into the serious. Unless you count that I am so obsessed with playing this game that my left arm gets sore from holding the phone. God damn random user named Michael tried to overthrow my supreme reign, like I was going to let that happen. Kiss it, Michael. He came in third place and I am not ashamed to say I'm glad someone else swooped in and stole second out of nowhere. I usually don't have much of a competitive streak, I don't think. I play games and take risky chances because it's just a game. And that whole big risk, big reward thing. I might also like to trip people up and will ruin my card hand to make sure you don't get the seven of diamonds. Maybe I am competitive. Or just a pain in the ass.  Is bigfoot real? Back up your statement with facts. 

About to lose control, he sighed in the affirmative when she asked if he needed to use the toilet.   His ankles were unclipped. One wrist was detached from his belt. Sheepishly he allowed himself to be guided to a powder room through the next door.   Completing his business, much relived, he emerged from the room.  He noticed a walk in closet transformed into a cell with a bed and chair. There, hung over the back of the chair were his clothes. It was late, she was no longer amused. Keys were thrust into his free hand. “get dressed Mr. Gimp!”   It was then he realized they had never exchanged names. He wasn’t even sure of the address. Sitting on the bed fully dressed with the keys and restraints on the chair, she took off the hood. A taxi was waiting outside to return him to the Hotel bar.   Her voluptuousness pressed against his face, she pulled him to his feet and kissed him passionately full on his trembling lips. “ Be gone Mr. Gimp!” She patted his butt and pushed him out the door to the waiting taxi. The driver was well paid for his discretion.

Service Is Not Small: The Quiet Power of Devotion In D/s dynamics, service is sometimes misunderstood because it does not always look dramatic from the outside. It may not involve a scene.It may not involve kneeling.It may not involve leather, cuffs, candles, or carefully staged ritual. Sometimes service looks like coffee made before it is asked for.Sometimes it looks like remembering a preference.Sometimes it looks like anticipating a need, completing a task, holding silence, or offering steadiness when life has become too loud. That does not make it small. Service is not lesser because it is quiet. In many dynamics, service is one of the deepest expressions of devotion because it asks for attention. Real attention. Not performative attention. Not the kind that only appears when there is an audience or a reward. Service requires noticing. It requires listening. It requires learning the rhythm of another person and choosing, again and again, to honor that rhythm with action. That choice matters. There is a difference between serving from obligation and serving from devotion. Obligation says, “I have to.”Devotion says, “I choose to.” That distinction is important, especially in power exchange. Healthy service is not about erasing the submissive. It is not about becoming invisible, voiceless, or endlessly available. It is not about proving worth through exhaustion. Service should not require someone to disappear. At its best, service becomes a language. It says, “I see you.”It says, “I remember.”It says, “Your comfort matters to me.”It says, “This dynamic lives beyond the obvious moments.” For some submissives, service is where their submission feels most natural. They may not crave elaborate protocol or intense scenes as much as they crave usefulness, order, care, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing they have contributed to their Dominant’s peace. For some Dominants, receiving service is not about laziness or entitlement. It is about trust. It is about allowing someone close enough to learn the details. It is about accepting care without dismissing it simply because it did not arrive loudly. But service must be respected. A submissive who serves is offering time, energy, thought, and intention. Those things should never be treated as meaningless just because they are freely given. The quiet tasks still count. The remembered details still count. The emotional labor still counts. The unseen work still counts. Devotion does not become less valuable because it is steady. In fact, steadiness may be one of the clearest signs of devotion there is. The dramatic moments can be beautiful. The rituals can be powerful. The scenes can be intense, intimate, and unforgettable. But the daily acts often reveal the truth of a dynamic more clearly than the grand ones. Who notices?Who follows through?Who appreciates?Who protaspects the trust being offered?Who understands that service is not servitude without care, but devotion with consent? Service is not small. It is not background noise.It is not “just” helping.It is not weakness.It is not proof that someone matters less. Service is a chosen offering. And when it is received with respect, gratitude, and responsibility, it becomes one of the strongest foundations a dynamic can have.

Four Steps...    A recent miscommunication has inspired me to write on the STEPS towards D/s service and/or "D/s dating", as I see it. 1. We text to see if we want to talk. 2. We talk to tell if we want to meet. Note: I prefer local gents because it helps keep this step simple, without significant investment (time, emotional, financial). However, each step has flexibility for individual situations.   3. We meet to find out if we are drawn to each other and want to spend time together, both vanilla and D/s time. 4. Once dating, we would enjoy each other while we find our mutual understanding. Do we want monthly "dates", something more or something less? All these things unfold ONE STEP at a time, with good communication and each person making the right choice for themselves. (See my journal entry "The Depths of the Garage") I understand that the submissive thrall might cause you to want to give yourself totally. Your mind might race ahead to total ownership. YOU must manage your own urges. I hope you learn to enjoy submission for an afternoon or a weekend. That is D/s dating as I define it.   NOTE: Weeks into my widowhood, I am interested in "D/s dating". It is simply not the right time for me to even consider ANY long term relationship. At a different time I will feel a different way. I look forward to it.

Through the Lens of Rika: The Sophia-Michael Connection Unveiled this piece is on the vibes of the soul lineage/shard/fractures of the sophia energy woman and the archangel michael guy. of course as it always is on my side of the internet. but this time it's about either the beginning of the relationship or what happens when one of us meet each other either online or in person but do not go through with initiating past a surface level connection. this is through the analysis of the song the others by rika. even the music video showcases this lovely too.   when a femme/women of any gender expression meets an archangel michael soul encoded guy fireworks spark. chemistry is there. and an underlying pull comes. it can be pretty clear to those who work with energy and all the signs that will come if it's just this dynamic going on or something more. there will be more signs/synchronicities/depth/alignment going on if they are supposed to be your woman and you are supposed to be their man....but each of these sophia's and michaels have an underlying current of spark, magnetism, and probably some type of attraction going on than other energetic signatures out there. just do. why? not sure i was given the esoteric awareness without the whys yet.   let's pull out the lyrics to start the incantation as usual shall we?   verse   We're not together but I feel like we're together   And you know what   That when you leave you're like a mission puzzle piece   'Cause you know   Yeah boy you know   pre-chorus   I try and try a million times   I wish that I could read your mind   Day to day I can't come back   I love the way   chorus   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you know you're nothing like the others, yeah   'Cause you can call me, put you on me   'Cause I'm all you need boy   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you're nothing like like the others   verse   I can be the lion, no one got you on my mind   It feels good, so good   Mhh, you're away I'm dreaming of those days   This is so good, so good   pre-chorus   I try and try a million times   I wish that I could read your mind   Day to day I can't come back   I love the way   chorus   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you know you're nothing like the others, yeah   'Cause you can call me, put you on me   'Cause I'm all you need boy   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you're nothing like the others   bridge   I can know myself, I can now myself, no one, no one knows   You know me so well, you know me so well, so let's lose ourselves   No, I can know myself, I can help myself, no one, no one knows   'Cause you, you know me so well, you know me so well, so let's lose ourselves   chorus   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you know you're nothing like the others, yeah   'Cause you can call me, put you on me   'Cause I'm all you need boy   You know you're nothing like the others   No, you're nothing like the others   outro   I can know myself, I can now myself   No, you know you're nothing like the others   You know me so well, you know me so well, yeah   'Cause you can call me, put you on me   'Cause I'm all you need boy   You know you're nothing like the others (Yeah boy, yeah boy)   You're nothing like the others   instead of starting at the beginning i want to start with the bridge.   "I can know myself, I can now myself, no one, no one knows   You know me so well, you know me so well, so let's lose ourselves   No, I can know myself, I can help myself, no one, no one knows   'Cause you, you know me so well, you know me so well, so let's lose ourselves"   sophia again is the archetype of the original source of women that comes from knowledge knowing the foresight the ability to understand what is going on..a deep awareness of the future the deep ability to see ahead of the present and to tap into past present and all directions of awareness right?   this song says, i can know myself.   she knows HERSELF first....only by knowing herself can she understand what she sees around her. and in knowing herself she sees her outside world clearly.   through seeing her outside world clearly, i typo-ed outself.....i think that's a spiritual interesting typical..outside of the self....anyway through that she can clearly understand how other mens energies around her work. and she can seek the michael aura and how it looks in the sphere of men vs. the other energy and archangel qualities men carry. and if a man doesn't have angelic energy what that looks like as well.   unless you have the ability through whatever your psychic strength is to see it, no one else might be able to pick up on what you see. and then, no one might know or the average person might not know what you are picking up on.   not only that...no one will know yourself more than you. and through knowing yourself, you can see how deep this michael uses his golden boy the lead of the angel's keen tactical warrior senses to hone in on you. to see beyond what most men would not go into understanding. and because of your awareness of yourself and others, you see how heavy this man is going in on you. and for these michael men they sniff out women like me, like my sisters in a way they can just pick up on nuances that many would take longer to get.   michael and sophia after all are the same soul cyrstal if you will broken between two gender energy expressions. and now that we have the masculine and the feminine in different bodies it can often look in a multitude of ways...and this dark starseed archetype of the two spreads the way this looks into more finite details. a core of shared basics but things people might deem as 'too separate' simply different variables to figure out which way is the most optimal at once.   once she uses her knowledge and sees you....she's ready regardless of what the outside world or other appearances say to lose herself in you! why?   because she found your energy signature and essence.   YOU'RE NOTHING LIKE THE OTHERS!!!! the song opens up in a fanfare brass moment. and it has cheers and celebratory vibes. this also goes into a vibe of fanfare of winning a war/battle spoils that would come naturally for an archangel michael masculine energy and her coming

So I begin this new year still seeking a sub who is sane and not so self-absorbed to believe that I would drop all that I am doing to cater to his fetish du jour. Why do guys think that I am going to stop what I am doing to peg them if I am not really into pegging anymore? Or that I want to spend hours talking to some dude 5 states away about it when they aren't here? I don't want to get into an internet thing with some dude I want to find someone who can actually play who is here not someone jacking off by themselves in their mother's basement or some dude sneaking away from the wife long enough to get hard so that he can finally fuck her so that she will shut up.  I think the hardest part of all of this is how I can't seem to find what it is that I thought would be fairly easy to find. A pretty guy who is sane enough to want to explore his bounderies and still be able to fuck. But that has proven to be rare enough. Meh. Maybe my need to actually like a sub is my problem. I am not into using people and I am not really into broken people so that leaves a lot of men on the table. And shit, let us not get started on the women.  I know we all have our baggage but don't bring that shit to the session. I am not a therapist or your mother. I just want to have fun too. And digging through your emotional shit is exhausting.   

There is a reason I don't mention my father often. Yes, I have father issues. Yes, it has helped shape who I am and what I try to overcome and who I try to be and not be. Let's talk about that. About him. If psychological family philosophy isn't of interest you may want to skip this one.  My father is a selfish, self centered, chauvanistic bully. Always has been, and he has no idea that he is. A lot of excuses have been made for his behaviors. He grew up doted on, his father was the same, blah blah blah, excuses. Now, I've known for some time that I am both more intelligent and emotionally aware than all of my parents. Still, I think people should recognize their own behaviors and adjust accordingly. Silly expectations, that's on me.  He makes me feel like a second class citizen. My opinion doesn't matter, my thoughts aren't worth paying attention to, he is right and I am wrong. It has created a lot of issues for me going all the way back to when I was a little PPC. Everything is a confrontation. It's never a question of curiosity, it's always a derogatory statement in the form of a question with a side of judgment and attitude. And it gets my back up. So I shoot back. Most people do not. I can't help it. And I know it just makes it worse because he won't back down for anything and won't see beyond needing to be the loudest. I'm trying to do this while feeling like a second class citizen and a lifetime of being dismissed, and I fumble a lot but I'm trying to stand up for myself and stand up to him and his opinions. It's scary difficult. It takes a lot out of me. It carves emotional scars a little deeper than they are.  I can honestly say that he has had girlfriends I would have traded him in for and if he died tomorrow I'd very likely be okay with it. I'm not heartless. I do a lot for him, I try to be a good daughter even though he's not been a very good father. I've come to terms with that fact. It can't be changed. He wouldn't own up to it if confronted. It is what it is. It took a long time to come to that.  An entire Thanksgiving meal just for the two of us since the rest of the parents couldn't be here. I ruined it at least three times, according to him. And my kitchen is too cluttered. And I need to do this and that. And I wait on him, bring him things, clean up after him, and stop talking when he ignores me for scrolling on his phone. I both wish and would never wish for you to actually feel this. It's so heavy on my brain, on my heart.  He left this morning and I am elated. I have a whole weekend to recover. To put my house back together. To erase him from my life until Christmas, when he will buy me things he likes without thinking about what I like or asking what I could use or looking at my wish list created for this very purpose, and I'll pretend to ooh and ahh and hope there are gift receipts. Prick. 

Desire part 3   I slapped his erection and asked, "do you belong to me?"   "Ehn" he nodded, the veins in his arms standing out as he tensed and raised his hips again nodding as best he could.   I squeezed his erection roughly. Scooting my body backward and hovering over it.    "Do you want to be inside of me?"    He made a strangled noise and thrust up in my grasp. I slammed down on him. Filling myself. Fucking myself with him as if he were just a living dildo. He moaned under his hood. A faceless man. An object. A dog.  Not allowed to cum unless I used the command word. The special word. One I won't write here.   I moaned and rode him leaning back and grinding so that his pubic hair tickled my clit, then leaning forward to press the sensitive bud into his pubic bone. I could feel myself clenching around him and dripping, soaking us both as I drew closer to my orgasm.   "Please. your. Empress," I hissed, "hold your breath for me." I pressed my hands over his mouth and nose in his hood and rode him harder, my ass and thighs clapping against his thighs. And for 40 seconds he seemed to be calm but then he began to buck, fighting for air as he neared a minute without, his heart beat furiously in his chest, visibly so, and his bucking slowed, I felt myself there at the edge of my orgasm, I let him have air and released his bound arms. Tired from restriction he reached out slowly and grabbed my thighs and hips and thrust up into me furiously as I cried out in pleasure. Dripping around him as my pussy sucked and twitched and clenched around him.  Obediently he didn't cum.  Once I finished he put his hands back beside his head so that I could bind him again. He lay there still. His dick still deep inside of me. His heart still racing as his chest rose and fell.   I climbed off of him and stumbled towards the door as he lay there on the floor. I gave him one final look and said, "good night, my pet", before I clicked off the light, left the room, and locked the door. Leaving him there on the floor, tied in his hood, bound, naked, alone, erect and frustrated in the dark. While I, well fucked and satisfied, returned to my bed and my book.   

Have I been abused over my whole lifestyle experience?    I don't think I have, but it was brought to my attention that the reason I think the extreme harshness is normal is because to me it is. I get so confused when I'm asked questions or my opinions early on because from the 3 long term matters I had I didn't get that. It was instantly meeting and then I'm molded to what they desire without breaking my personality. a lot of it was in sex and pleasing them, being super respectful etc.    If my master gave me pleasure it was a reward, an honor, because it's not a given my pleasure.. His is a given. Always. So why am I so obsessed? I dunno..I honestly truly do not know why this is life is such a draw and a need for me when I know (I'm a smart cookie) that this isn't a nice relationship. I just know I crave it. The butterflies in my stomach, - when I'm given a command it almost ferments in my brain and when I complete the task it feels like a pressure is released.. Now I have the world poorest memory so I'm forgetful af, so I might forget the task if it's something that needs to be completed in the future lol   I don't think I was abused. I crave that intensity today and won't be happy if it's not a constant thing. My body moves on its own sometimes. I'm lippy. No I think it was good teachings and what I deserved at the time.    I met someone new. We talked for hours and next day met. It was all pretty fast. He said if it doesn't keep this pace ... I'm a runner...I'll leave and... He's right. I'm fucked up. I get in my head and I overthink everything and then I get headstrong and stubborn. I don't know if it's real.. Again it was mostly talking with some fun times and lots of correction and reframing my mind. It was fun yesterday. Was it enough? Is this what it's always gonna be like?    I dunno. I dunno.

We've gotten a few questions, people asking for more info about me dating the Trump supporter. We're still dating! When Kamala entered the race, I teased him a few times about losing to a woman and he'd always make it a point to tell me later (when I was tied up or bent over or otherwise had him inside me) that November wasn't going to change anything for me, that I'd still be fucking him on Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Valentine's Day, basically anytime he wanted. We don't get too into the details - he's not super politically engaged and it's actually kind of upsetting to think about the state of the country, and how rights are being taken away all the time, when I'm in a relatively privileged position and choosing to indulge in this kind of play. A few people asked how we met. We're in the same grad school program and he's always starting arguments about politics and "how come people don't just get a driver's license if they want to vote so bad", that kind of thing. I'd always jump in and push back, and he told me later that he liked getting me riled up. He said he liked seeing me flush and get upset and try to convince him of things when he didn't really care. We chatted a few times before classes and he'd be incredibly forward so he knew I was married, knew I wanted kids, made a few comments if I wore a choker or a fashion collar. After class one night, my car battery was dead so he came over and gave me a jump. We were the only ones left in the lot so while we were standing outside in the dark, he slid his hands in the back pockets of my jeans and pulled me against him. I instinctively reached back and he trapped my hands and held them behind my back while kissing me, jamming his tongue in my mouth. I blew him in his car and we made plans to go out that weekend. He's pretty rough and he loves being in charge. My husband will buy all sorts of bondage toys and I'll take them to the cop's apartment and that's where they stay. He keeps bondage straps on his mattress, has a spreader bar that he straps my hands and ankles to, has all of my favorite ball gags and blindfolds and plugs. He's also incredibly respectful, in his own way. He doesn't push limits we've discussed and I've gotten him to say things like "do you want me inside you?" which is as close to consent as he's interested in, but is still a huge deal. I let him take pictures of me tied up and naked as long as he obscures my face. I know men always show their friends and there's always the chance he revenge porns me if we break up, and he totally understood without arguing. He said he hears about that at work from teens and he knows it's a huge problem. Last story - he had me tied up recently, wrists and ankles on the spreader bar, gagged, a black hood over my entire head. Then his doorbell rang and he let in one of his buddies. We had discussed before that I was open to other men but I wasn't going to let them fuck me without protection. And here I was, ass up in the air, a stranger carassing me, unbuckling his belt. I started whimpering and wiggling my fingers. I was starting to make our safety signal when I heard him say "dude, condom, come on." I'm not going to say chivalry isn't dead but it made me feel good that he wasn't like "huh huh huh just fuck her in the ass huh huh huh." I gave them both a hell of a ride in gratitude. And to answer the most common question, no I'm not pregnant yet!

A list of kinks/fetish I'm into since I've been asked Bondage, impact play, roleplay, sensory play, power exchange, orgasm control, humiliation, degradation, dirty talk, chastity, CBT (cock and ball torture), foot worship, facesitting, smothering, human furniture, slapping, verbal domination, sissification, pet play, boot worship, ruined orgasms, brat taming, protocol training, objectification, slave tasks, domestic training.pegging aspect

I've been single for a long time and have been online here {and a few other sites} off an on over the years.  Always open to making frineds though if online only it can be hard to be active as life is busy. I would really like to explore submission to a Dom, Daddy, Master and local is best because it provides the opportunities to enjoy frequent time together and time for play.  Because my sexuality is intertwined with my spirit and soul, I cannot have just a physical relationship without first working on trust, admiration, enjoyment of the other person outside the bedroom also. Have been actrive in the local kink community in the past and would enjoy that again! PS I do have an exhibitionistic side and so attention is very much appreciated by this BBW!

Adding a journal entry because updating my profile takes forever. I might add or update these as I go. Also, I hate the formatting here.  I get a lot of messages from potential submissives, so I thought I'd make a little FAQ to help all of us out. Please read before messaging.  Can I be your sub? If that's your first message, no. I'm looking for local or nearish subs for real time interactions. I'm also looking for a specific arrangement. Most importantly, I'm looking for subs I can have a vanilla connection with. If me being human is a turn off for you, then I'm not the Dominant you should be talking to. Do you have a screening process?  I do. I can provide more information if you're interested. If you're not willing to screen, don't message me.  Why haven't you answered my message? There are many reasons I won't answer a message. Your profile has no picture and your bio is empty. Your message is a request of some sort. Your message is just "hello". You've said something I find offensive.  But my message was a compliment! Why won't you answer that? Very likely because you've sent something like "you're beautiful" or "I love your feet". And that's it. It's what I call a bait message, where you throw out a one liner statement and I'm meant to respond either with a compliment or by starting the conversation. If you can't be bothered to write a thoughtful message, I can't be bothered to respond.  I'm not on here much, can we talk elsewhere and get to know each other better? I will not give out any information about my socials or other profiles until I feel like there is a connection and I'm interested in getting to know you better. Until then, yes, you will have to log in here to talk to me. If that's too much to ask for, well.  *shrug*

Consent (a poem from one of my slaves) Tell me what you want.  Tell me it all. Speak your truth And I promise I will listen  With kindness in my heart. Your desires are yours and I am touched by your trust. You are safe to share all this with me. Ask me. My answer will be given with care. Expect nothing of me, except my honesty. Accept my honesty. I will ask the same of you. I said no to the one who had all the right answers I said no to the one who demanded my attention  I said no to the one who invaded my personal space I said no to the one who said I was gorgeous and expected me to be grateful I said no to the one I said yes to last week I said no to the one who grabbed my hand I said no to the one who was ambiguous and shifty I said no to the one who stole a kiss I said no to the one who got me drunk I said no to the one who bought me dinner I said no to the one who was incredibly good-looking and that’s all I said no to the one who told me things I already knew I said no to the one who touched my knee without asking I said no to the one who didn’t listen I said no to the one who said I was the one I said no to the one who thought I was their missing piece I said no to the one who just assumed I said no to the one who I just didn’t really like I said no to the one who got angry I said no to the one who pinched my arse I said no to the one who was lying to their lover I said no to the one who sent me a picture I didn’t ask for I said no to the one who was pompous I said no to the one who wanted me all to them self I said no to the one who didn’t want to take no for an answer I said no to entitlement And so did you. You didn’t move as you spoke, you just looked me in the eyes.  You wanted and you hoped and I could see your truth. And I asked you, “What do you want to do?” “I want to fuck you” you said. “I want to hurt you and enjoy the pain in your eyes” you said. “I want to degrade you and use you and make you my slave” you said. And I gave you my answer.

Here are a few things that I should have added to my profile but didn't and I don't wanna wait forever for it to be approved again. 1. Do not message me if you are not in my state, it clearly says in my profile I am looking for a Dom in or around my area. This means in North Carolina only (maybe as far as SC but I am not willing to travel). 2. Do not contact me if you are a sub or slave male asking me if I want to own you and you be my so called puppy. I am NOT into pet play and I have a real life dog that is already challenging enough, I don't need a human wannabe dog. I am also NOT a Domme, my name clearly says that I am sub and my profile clearly points that out.  3. No I will not do online with you, my life is very busy as is and sending me a message that says "when are you available" as your first one as well as you having no profile except that you wanna be please orally then yeah you're not getting a response from me.  4. If you think that all subs should be sexual to be in a dynamic move on, I know plenty who are in nonsexual D/s dynamics and they have been going strong for years.  5. Do not tell me that you want to mentor me yet want to play with me. A mentor never plays with who they are mentoring, the person being mentored is looking to that person for advice. If you think differently then don't bother contacting me.  6. Yes I am married, yes he knows I am in the lifestyle and yes he does approve. I have written this in my profile but it seems like it goes ignored. Just because I am married is not the only reason why I am nonsexual, I have other reasons as well.  7. Please stop asking if I have kids. Just because I'm married doesn't mean I do and the answer is no I do not and never want them. If your first message to me is "what's your availability" and you have a virtually blank profile then you will more than likely be ignored.

Training a new submissive, what does that mean Training means something slightly different to every person. The overall ive is to change, modify, or adjust behaviors, attitude, abilities, and desires of the submissive to match that of the dominant. When done in good faith and conscience that means making those changes and adjustments not only with consent of the submissive but also in respect to limits and limitations. Many people have different methods to training and how it is most effective or best accomplished. Here is my opinion and what I intend to do once I find the sub with which to explore that journey with. I think that training, for the most part should be gentle and takes time. Other disagree and think that rough fast training is more effective. In my experience, especially when working with someone that is very new, that can be extremely overwhelming. I think that training should be well thought out, methodical, and subtle, especially at first. Instead of diving into punishments and harsh corrections, gentle reminders and calm but authoritative explanation can be much more effective. I also like to explore other mediums with witch to train a submissive. I very much enjoy exploring erotic hypnosis and showing someone new what kind of things you can do with it. How with very little time you can accomplish much in training a new sub. The key to this sort of exploration is not only consent, but informed consent and full understanding of the process. Someone willing to participate. This is not the sort of thing you can be rough and forceful with. It takes a gentle touch, especially when the goal is long term. Like many I do enjoy the rougher aspects of sexuality, rough sex can be intoxicating under the correct circumstances. That being said, it's not something to rush into head first with someone who has no experience of it. If you work into it slowly, what feels like excruciatingly slow to some, you might be surprised what you can accomplish. Fear can be a powerful motivator for some, but most will push themselves much further if they feel safe and know that they can trust their partner. When I say excruciatingly slow I don't mean in the course of one session. I don't mean over a week or even a couple weeks. When something is worth it you will be willing to put for the time and the effort to take things as slow as necessary. Sometimes this means months or even longer. I'll use anal training as an example. For someone who has never experienced any kind of anal play it can be overwhelming and painful if someone rushes things. If someone goes from no experience at all to full on anal sex in one session it may push them to never wanting to do it again. If you take your time however, start with toys and plugs and gently and slowly build up endurance and size then when the actual anal sex happens it can be an amazing experience on both ends. Like I already said, weeks or months, not necessarily hours or days. When you work together on accomplishing something like that and you ensure that the submissive partner feels safe and cared for then will often times push themselves further than you imagined they could. This is the sort of thing that I'm looking for. This is the kind of dynamic I want to find with a submissive woman, because when you build things up the right way, they last much longer and they mean much more. So where are you young lady? I know you're out there somewhere. I just have yet to find you. When I do, I very much look forward to the training.

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. 

On Silk and Steel There is something about heels that shifts my spine the moment I slide them on. It is not the height, though the added inches are delicious. It is alignment. The tilt of the hips. The deliberate pace required with each step. Heels demand intention. They refuse clumsiness. They create presence before I even speak. Hosiery is quieter, but no less powerful. Silk against skin feels like a secret. A whisper beneath the surface. It softens the line of muscle and bone, yet it also sharpens awareness. Every movement becomes intentional because I can feel it: the glide, the stretch, the faint resistance at the back of the knee when I cross my legs. As a Domme, I have always loved that juxtaposition. Silk and steel. Leather and velvet. Silk is control wrapped in elegance. Steel is the structure beneath it, the unseen spine that holds everything upright. Leather is command. It does not apologize. It creaks softly when I move, announcing authority in texture alone. Velvet absorbs light. It deepens shadows. It invites touch while denying access. There is power in contrast. A stiletto heel pressing into hardwood floors, sharp and decisive, while sheer hosiery catches the glow of lamplight. The world sees glamour. They see polish. What they do not see is the discipline underneath it. Steel in the mind. Leather in the posture. Velvet in the voice when I choose. I love the ritual of dressing for authority. Selecting the pair of stockings that smooth and sculpt. Choosing heels that force my stride into something measured and unhurried. The act itself becomes preparation, armor made beautiful, intention made wearable. Dominance does not have to shout. Sometimes it is the softness of silk paired with the certainty of steel. Sometimes it is velvet brushing against skin while leather encircles a wrist. The interplay is what makes it intoxicating: strength wrapped in refinement, command dressed in the most elegant thing in the room.   I do not dominate because I am hard. I dominate because I understand contrast.     And there is nothing more striking than elegance paired with absolute control.

Tonight, as I sit alone in my room, the whirr of the fan above, and the muted hum of nightlife outside, I'm overwhelmed with a cocktail of emotions. They say time is the best healer, but some memories are etched so deep that time only accentuates their imprint. Today's breeze had the playful quality of that one evening, that daring venture that James and I took together. He always had this unique ability to surprise me. Just when I thought I knew all his tricks, he would come up with something unprecedented. I still remember his mischievous grin when he handed me that beautiful burgundy saree. "Wear this for our date tonight," he said, with a glint in his eye that I'd come to recognize. It meant there was a twist to this tale. And oh, was there! Wrapping the saree around myself, feeling its soft touch glide over my skin, knowing I wore nothing beneath, was an experience in itself. The chill of the metal waist chain against my bare skin, every step I took accentuating the lack of fabric underneath, it was exhilarating. As we walked through the garden, the tendrils of the evening breeze would occasionally threaten to expose my little secret. Each gust made my heart skip a beat, the thrill of possibly being caught, the sheer audacity of it, and James's approving glances only added to the excitement. Though it was all in good fun, it revealed a lot about our relationship. James always pushed me to embrace my desires, however unconventional they might be. With every playful dare, every challenge, he taught me that sensuality wasn't just about touch or sight. It was about feeling, anticipation, the dance of the mind with desire, and most importantly, trust. Trust in him, trust in us, and trust in myself. In the heart and among the bustling streets and the vibrant nightlife, we found our little pockets of intimacy. Some may see it as scandalous, but to me, it was a testament to our bond. We didn't need to be confined to the four walls of our bedroom to feel close. It was these spontaneous moments that made our relationship feel alive. Today, surrounded by the memories of our shared past, the saree folded neatly in my closet seems more than just fabric. It's a reminder. A reminder of our passion, our adventurous spirit, and the love that transcended norms. Though James isn't here in person, his essence lingers in these memories, keeping the embers of our love glowing.

 Bull60