A recent message asked me to name "one experience thats shaped your journey in the BDSM world", and I thougt of this poem. It is about a scene I monitored in the early summer of 1999. The title is the name of the wonderful, beautiful woman, a friend, mentor, and so much more, to so many people over the years, and the sub in the scene. I miss you, "Mom".  Allena Beautiful golden hillside Lush with fine, silken grasses Trembling as he works his Mastery With every crack like thunder, Another crimson dewdrop appears; Meeting one another, dancing into rivulets, Until her hills and valleys run with ruby wine. Over and over, agony meets ecstacy; Mingling tears with sighs As she shudders with pleasure and pain. I shudder too, as I watch. Start at every strike; Feel each blow as it lands. I imagine I am there beside her; And for a precious moment...We are one. ©Khaos WolfKat 2001  

Adding to the House of M - Our search for a slaveThe House of M is looking for a slave.We’re going to be picky, very picky. We will take out time in this search to find the right one at the right time for us. And because of that, we recognize this search will take some time.Our House and more specifically, our dynamic is built on communication, trust, honesty, intelligence, friendship and deep respect for each other. Those who are a part of it, are individuals that recognize that connection and relationship must exist in both the lifestyle as well as in the vanilla world to develop the kind of bonds that are required to create the richness we desire. We want one who will care a deeply about us as we will about them and share our values. We place a high value on intelligence, the mental aspaspects of the lifestyle, caring about each other, loyalty, seriousness in and about ones roles, as well as the ability to have fun and be let loose when the time is right.We seek a bi M masochistic slave (under 45), smooth with at least a slightly feminine appearance who is height weight-proportional. One who craves to serve and derives fulfillment from the act of giving themself to us. A slave who knows that their proper place is at a Master's feet, serving whenever, however, and whatever Master requires. Our vision is that my babygirl and I will both Dominate this slave equally as their Master. Not live-in, but possible in the future as part of this long-term dynamic. While there should be NO expectation for sexual use from either of us, they should be ready and eager to serve both of us in any way we choose. Our current needs include domestic, sexual and masochistic service, but know that as we intend for this to be a long time ownership, these needs will evolve and grow. We hope to find one who craves degradation, humiliation, objectification, and belonging, with limits that align with our own (see our profiles).For those who wish to explore becoming part of our House, write us and we can begin a conversation about it, but be patient, be respectful, come ready to show us who you truly are and most of all be patient. Take this time to get to know us as we get to know you.We are worth it - I promise you

My Heart Is a Lighthouse     My heart is a lighthouse.Inside it, a light that never goes out.Even when dim, it sends its signal —a soft pulse across the waves,trusting someone is out there,sailing slowly but surely toward me.They hold the key to the door.And when they arrive,they’ll know it was always theirs.

As M and I take our search for a bull more serious I would like to give you a little background on me. The following is my very abbreviated true life story and an explanation of how M and I ended up here.    As a young girl, I was always fascinated with sex and the power of what I knew was different from what others were into. I grew up in the middle of New Hampshire on a small farm and knew nothing of pop culture. My mom cut my hair, and her own willow switches. Both felt like their own brand of punishment. I was often bullied in school. Always by the boys. The girls tended to ignore me as I was bookish and weird. I will never forget the very first time when, backed into a corner, I finally kicked my aggressor in the balls. I felt a rush of power. Instantly I went from simply wishing they would leave me alone to read my book in peace, to looking forward with anticipation to the daily assault I would give them. Looking back now, I realize that some of them enjoyed the power exchange. By high school, I was a sexual demon. I didn’t know there were names for the roles I enjoyed. I just knew that sex was power, and I needed to feel that rush as often as possible. During my last year in college, I finally found a name for those roles. I started working at a fetish and fantasy house in Manhattan in 1998. I started there as a switch, and enjoyed it as a learning experience, but I quickly found myself drawn to playing the role of the Dominant Sadistic Goddess. Always with a wicked sense of humor. This was a great place to explore my kinky sexuality and fostered a lifelong love of the kink and BDSM community. But soon enough – I outgrew that space. I moved to San Francisco and spent the next 8 years as an independent professional Dominatrix. It was the way for me to explore myself and the world. I traveled all over the world to visit devotees. I put myself through law school, which became my “real career”. Turns out, I could not stay away and returned to my love of being a professional Dominatrix and BDSM educator in my limited free time.  In 2012, while visiting the East Coast, at a scene night in a Manhattan club, I saw a young man standing alone in rather vanilla clothing. He looked so helpless; it was clearly his first event. I saw not only a potential client, but someone I knew needed help. This young man turned out to be M who would later become my husband. We spent years building a relationship through sessions and dates that would follow. It was a slow process but we started involving each other more and more in our separate lives. Eventually my work outside BDSM brought me back to the East Coast. My relationship with M blossomed even more at that point, he was no longer a client. We were getting very close and were no longer exploring his interests, we were exploring mine. I decide to stop seeing clients and we moved close to each other. I turned my free time attentions to coaching women in BDSM and kink. After so many years of catering to the fantasies of men, I was captivated by women’s sexual journeys and helping them name and realize their own deepest desires. My experiences learning from other women confirmed what I had always suspected – that toxic masculinity is bad for EVERYONE’S sex life and I bring that ethos to my marriage and my life. M and I were married in a private ceremony in SF in 2016. I have stopped teaching in my free time and have focused all my kink energy in creating the exact lifestyle marriage I have always dreamed of.  Potential bulls, f you have questions and would like me to elaborate please don't hesitate to ask.  K

I figured I would do a quick about me.   This isn't planned and will likely be random and all over the place.First of all, vanilla - as this is the most important thing to me, If we don't connect here, than sexually doesn't matter.I'm an extravert. I find energy in groups and crowds usually(not allways) And I find people fasanating, so I would enjoy people watching sometimes even.However, I would be ok being with an introvert and limiting my actions with groups.  This isn't a must and being closed off and contained isn't an issue.  It's the relationship that matters and as long as that is strong, I will be happy.I tend to enjoy a little bit of everything.  Travelling, hiking, board games, movies and tv, reading. trying new things and activities.My tastes range from Downton Abbey, to Yellowstone, to Battlestar to NCIS(not as much anymore) to parks and rec.I love independant and foreign films/tv as well as classics just as much as anything above.I've become a board game and puzzle nut.  It's an interesting way to spend time, have fun and use strategy/think.I enjoy conversations and debating.I'm the sort of person willing to try everything at least once.Some weird/different stuff about me:I am very Ticklish.  To the point that if you wish to tickle I have a very strong ask that I be tied down. I have punched people before being unrestrained and flailing about. I do not enjoy it, but I enjoy the pleasure it brings my torturer I guess.I have a fear of heights.  I have learned to manage this, I usually have no issue in a plane, on a ladder or even a roof. And if I can hold onto something solid, I am fine.  But every now an again(top of a mountain looking over a cliff as one example) I do have that fear crop up.I'm a nudist at heart. I'm fine with nudity and I would be nude all the time if I could. Sometimes I am.I believe I'm undiagnosed ADHD.  In no way really bad, but I do have quirks.  When I have a list of tasks I can and tend to jump between them mid-task randomly.  I can and have been known to fidget usually, usually just my fingers.  And other really minor things. Nothing that I feel needs to be managed, it's more of a "wow it's crazy you work like that" sort of response from people when they know me, and like I said, not all the time, but enough it would be noticable long term.The kinky/sex stuff:I'm Pansexual.  I have been with both sexes before, maybe I will again. To me it's about the person, not their parts. I have no requirements there, I don't 'need' both sexes in my life and I can and am able to be monogomus.My Limits: No Scat, No felonies.(an aside here - a lot of people say nothing illegial. But public nudity is illegial, and I would do it leading to -), Nothing that involves others without their consent.  Wearing a collar in public is just apperal, being naked involves them.  Being naked where a kid can see is a felony, so context matters there.No permanent changes without my ok. As soon as I ok being tatooed or pierce once, I'm good forever.Nothing involving friends or family or work without my ok. This includes collars and such.No Degredation.  I was picked on as a kid.  It wasn't fun. If you want to treat me like crap - no thanks.  If you don't want to treat me like a prized pet, a love, a favorite possession, or something like that, I'm not for you.   This includes namecalling, and includes for punishment.Humiliation is different, I love humiliation.My main joys(in no ways all)Being controlled/a lack of control.  The more real this is, the more I tend to enjoy it.Tell me not to move or else is one thing, tell me not to move and bind me so I can't even if I tried and it's mentally a different level.  And no, I don't expect this 24/7 365 or even often, just explaining control is key.Pleasing/serving/bringing smiles.  Are you happy?  Are you satasfied? Are you smiling?  This can be from an act I did - cleaning your kitchen, bringing you to a great orgasm, or just submitting to something difficult for you.Humiliation.  This is an aspect of control.  Being naked around others is one example.  The way I look at it, if it makes me blush or shy it's humiliation.In no ways is that all but the main ones.However note, I'm focused on #2, and that is most important to me. If I cannot and am not pleasing, this wouldn't work for me(and I imagine you either). Some other sexual/relationship notes:I have the mindset that I learn what an owner wants, needs and desires and it's my job to fit inside that, that a possible owner shouldn't need to change for a sub/slave.  That I need to find somewhere that I can fit, and mold myself around their desires, fantasies and interests.  This includes things like chastity as well as other activities. Some like it, some don't, in the end I can give or take.I have my fantasies and things I'd like to try or do, and I will talk about them if asked or desired.  I have a desire to be an open book as best as I can be.Finally and most importantly - I'm looking for a relationship.  With that, I would be with a couple as long as if there is another sub, that I am equal to the sub.  I do not desire to be a side piece or a toy that is brought out on occasion.  Likewise, I'm not looking to be a servent or "domestic only".  In most cases that isn't a relationship that is a job.   I would be domestic only if it were a relationship, but it would depend on the situation.  I think 99% of domestic only searches fall outside that situation.I want someone to accept me for me.  If you cannot do that, I will move on.  Small changes I can and will make, Big ones I would only make if there is a really good reason(addiction) or something, of which I don't think I have anything currently.I'm not talking what I wear or my haircut or if I'm shaved or not.  I'm talking "you can't like this or that because I told you to" sort of stuff.  Also, I would like someone who listens to me and who allows me to speak my mind.It doesn't have to be always, or often, It can be at set times,  and you do not need to do whatever I speak about or say, but you do need to really listen and understand.  I do not want to be a robot.

There should be a place to go where you can fuck and feed. I remember with my ex we had sex pretty much 24/7. Call it the fuck and feed. Never found someone to keep up and even he complained about too much sex. Alas he was the only one I could just make/go get a sammich and we went right back it. We had sex in all the strange places graveyards temples churches, besides anywhere outside  We didn't discriminate.  This one time I dropped off my friend told him I'd pick him up in an hour my ex and I had sex in the car for the whole day we never stopped. My friend walked to my car (which was a parking lot) knocked on the window and said "some hour it's been over 12". My ex and I honestly thought it was like 10 mins. I have no regrets - just miss the sex all the time every time with a massive BBC. This i something of the past I don't want to stay there would like a repeat thanks 

  Her previous Dom turned up at our house late one night with two of his mates He was saying things like where is your slut wife? Ive brought a couple of cocks for herThey had all been drinking and came straight from the pubI tried to explain that it was late and she had gone to bedHe went straight upstairs saying he was going to wake herI found out the next day when she told me that she was awakened when he pulled the bed covers completely off the bed She sleeps nude He made her suck his cock before dragging her out of bed by her hair She tried to put her house coat on but he wouldnt let herHe dragged her downstairs and into the front room naked in front of his friends This is Teds slut wife Holding her in front of them he pulled on her hair until she said yes, She loves big cocks dont you? again he pulled on her hair until she said yesThis went on for some time making her crawl on the floor barking and panting like a dog He made her Grunt like a pig and all three were laughing and making jokes about her I was told to go and fetch her whip and cat of nine tails he knew we had because he had used them on her before All three took turns whipping her leaving marks all over her He held her arms behind her back while the other two took turns whipping her tits She was crying her eyes out at this point They used beer bottles to masturbate her and even had her licking their shoes. They ended up fucking her in all holes They totally abused her as I could do nothing but watchAfter they left we went to bed and I gently made love to her She admitted to me that she loved every moment of her ordeal Her cunt was absolutely saturated so I knew she was telling the truthShe once said to me that it is not about the sex, she can walk into any bar and get a man for sex For her the sex is nice but it is all about the pain and humiliation She can get a man to tell her how beautiful she is but again that is not what she wants deep down

What are the origins of My interest in the Master/slave dynamic? That's a question I have asked Myself many times and still find the answer elusive. Was it all those sword and sandal films I watched with the muscle bound men in chains? Or is it something deeper that drew me to those films and all the other images of lesser men serving a Superior? As humans, I believe we are drawn to others that confirm what we know is true about ourselves,  My involvement in training and developing slave minds and bodies dates back to the mid 1990's. I was newly out in My mid 30's and drawn to the darker edges of the gay community I was exploring. I began to notice a man watching me in the leater/levi bar I had started frequenting. The man was not physically attractive but his intensity interested Me. I was curious. Asking others brought a common warning, "he's a werido stay away". I continued to ignore and then finally one day he spoke to me. his first word to Me was "Sir".  More later...... 

“A dominant man is” A dominant man is observant. He watches, he notices, he takes in the environment. He does this not only to monitor your responses, he does this to keep you safe. In the same way a lead on the dance floor should mostly be looking at couples around them, not on their follower. A dominant man is watching the environment so you can feel safe enough to let go. He is watching you to see what you aren’t saying. He observes. A dominant man is patient. He knows that as much as you might want to open up, it takes some time for your subconscious and your nervous system to catch up. You need to relax, you need to feel safe, and he needs time. To explore, to feel you, to gauge what you like and don’t like, he needs time with your body and your mind and he is patient enough to take it. And he is patient over and over again, not just once but many times, giving you the communication that he is steady and present and he will not leave you to flounder.”  

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. 

It's baffling why some guys start an email by saying they've read a profile, and immediately make it obvious that they haven't. Or that they have little or no reading comprehension. Do you think we're so stupid we won't notice? You know everybody can tell who has looked at their full profile, right? You can't read all of mine without looking at the full profile, so I KNOW IF YOU HAVEN'T. Not to mention there are things in there placed there specifically to see if it's been read.Do you think there's nothing in there you might need to know? Do you think a dominant just wrote it for fun and it doesn't mean anything? Do you think "getting to know a dominant" might include reading what she writes? Do you think lying about it will make a good impression?If you want to get to know me and maybe serve me some day, the first step is to PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT I SAY. Starting with the profile. The second step is to NEVER LIE. I mean, seriously, this is not rocket science, guys. Anybody past ten years old should be able to figure this stuff out.

My thoughts about FLR's I wrote this a few years ago but I feel it’s still relevant… enjoy!—————————-So much said and discussed regarding FLR's. Some argue that it is not based in kink while others offer that it actually has its roots there. I personally believe that it can only roughly be defined… because ultimately… it is whatever the two consenting adults agree on creating together. I will however take a moment to describe what I have imagined a Female led relationship to be. Let's begin by exploring some contrasts with what is... What is a Male led relationship? Is it kinky by definition? I would imagine it to be the classic default idea of a bread winning husband and a wife who takes on more of the domestic duties. While kink really isn't involved in defining it… the assumption might be that the man's sexual needs get met with priority while hers are not. He is above criticism but she is not? Mix in our cultures unfortunate dance with masculine toxicity and I see why more and more Women are just plain fed up with the traditional relationship model. The goal to achieve equality often ends up seeming a pipe dream. When I imagine a FLR i begin by flipping the script on the classic model.So perhaps She's the bread winner now…? and Her desires take priority?Regardless of income comparisons, the chores still need doing in the house so I naturally see the male stepping up and taking on the domestic roles before and after work. And much like how a male expects to be "served" as the head of house, I see the Female instead getting to make Her needs, comfort and well being the first priority. But rather than asking for beer and sandwiches during a football game… I would imagine a Woman's requests to be more… well… feminine in nature. Intimacy building, sensual, communicative, nurturing and based more in the areas important to Her such as personal, domestic and emotional fulfillment. Ahhh but macho men don't go there right? lol Perhaps this is why D/s is so much more commonly associated with the idea of a Female Led Relationship…? using Femdom to establish Her new authority and to lay the foundations of the power dynamics within the relationship. YES, many men are clueless when it comes to being more balanced, more self aware, more selfless and more supportive of the Goddess in their lives. They grew up with the Patriarchy programming and only through months or even years of self introspection, re-education and re-balancing will they at last come to understand and access the Authentic expression of the Divine Masculine within them. It is so worth it but why oh why so rare in this day and age? You can lead a horse to water but you cant make him drink is the saying that comes to mind when I imagine a vanilla version of a FLR. Perhaps D/s IS the most effective accelerant to what would be an otherwise painfully slow conversion process full of power struggles? One element of kink that is definitely penetrating into more of the vanilla ranks is of course male chastity. This idea of harnessing the power of an otherwise out of control fire hose for bettering both himself and your intimate relationship is not surprising to see rise in popularity. Ensnared by his own kinky imagination, the chastity offers both initial enticement for him but also a far more tangible tool of enforcement for Her. This leverage She gains can then be used to establish a full and new domestic life balance between the two… while he begins to understand and witness the positive effect his attention and efforts to please have upon Her, Her beauty, their connection and his own personal awakening. Now add in more and more kinks… BDSM, Cuckolding, Hotwife etc and to me you are just adding more toppings at the salad bar. The foundation of the FLR is laid out simply as the salad and the dressing… She is on top, she is leading the relationship direction and he is supporting Her efforts… hopefully quite willingly. If not then perhaps some croutons and deviled eggs are necessary as well? Maybe both enjoy a full on power dynamic 24/7 and act accordingly? The sky is the limit after that. So yes, in my humble opinion… whatever they both create it to be… from the salad dressing on, is what I imagine a FLR to ultimately be. Thoughts?

Forced Fem and Humiliation might not be so bad after all   A couple of years ago my Master thought up a new way to humiliate me when he bought a little frilly French maids costume online. He plan was initially to make me wear it while I did chores around the house. He wasn't in to TVs or sissies he just thought it would amuse him to see me walk to the end of the garden to put bags of rubbish in the bin especially as the garden faced a busy street. He also found it funny to lock the door behind me so I would spend a while cowering outside trying not to be seen before he opened the door again. Don't worry the humiliation wasn't a bad thing it could just get a little cold out there sometimes. He also used to make me wear it when his friends visited to serve them drinks. It was on one of those visits with Masters friend constantly putting his hand up my skirt (sanctioned by Master) that the subject of it being cold outside came up. The friend suggested only the dress wasn't enough I should at least have proper underwear and at least 1 pair of stockings. Master agreed and one day I came home to the additions to my new outfit sitting on the table. I was instructed to go and try them on. After a few struggles with the stockings I came out to show Master. He approved and showed me how much by ensuring that my new knickers I had only had for 10 minutes needed to go into the wash. Now when I did chores I was properly dressed and Masters friends seem to like it too. I liked it too.  I was never a sissy but I looked forward to dressing up, even running to the bins never seemed so bad. I confess I have dressed up sometimes since, and would like someone who likes it to push me  bit more.

Simple Life For A slave Written by submissive4dominant its a simple life for a slave. it is removed from the trails and tribulations of the world, it just has one focus, one thing to concentrate its attention on…Master. it can only do its best to follow every order to make life for Master as comfortable, pleasurable and easy as possible. Master has to think, it just has to do.  it has spent the day cleaning, preparing food, working out to make its body attractive for Master, meditating and focusing on how it can be a better slave, maybe practising a new skill it has been told to learn. A text alerts it to the fact that Master is 5 minutes away so it pours His favourite wine and kneels by the door, head bowed.  What happens next will depend on Masters mood. Mostly He will grab the wine, dump His briefcase for the slave to put away and slump onto the sofa. Unless ordered otherwise, the slave will crawl over and carefully remove Masters shoes and give Him an expert foot rub, whilst Master drinks and comes down from the stresses of the day. Of course if it has been a particularly bad day Master might need a different form of attention, need to get rid of His frustrations before He can truly relax. A slap to the kneeling slave as He comes in is the signal that it should go and position itself below the frame, offer its body for Master to release His tension on.  Yes, its a simple life. the slave just needs to live in the moment, it never knows what to expect, doesn’t need to..it just accepts, just obeys. Will it be slapped, will it be stroked…it doesn’t matter each comforts it, lets it know it is fulfilling its purpose in life. 

I saw this today in someone's journal and I decided to write about it as my interpretation of what Protect the Property means.  To me, protecting the property is part of the protocols I have adopted as my own.  To my submissive, it means protecting yourself. You are charged with making sure you are healthy by taking care of yourself, eating correctly, drinking enough water, etc.  Ensuring I am well taken care of to the best of his ability.  To me, it means the same for myself, and it means I am to ensure my submissive is well cared for.  To both of us, care for the relationship. Water the garden of the relationship, and help it grow together. If the relationship is not cared for, it will not succeed and this is done by both of us. 

Lets talk about self care, skin care and smelling beautiful, sexy for my man  Morning Routine: Cleansing: I start my day with a mild cleanser to freshen up my face. It’s essential to remove any impurities that may have settled overnight. Toning: After cleansing, I use a soothing toner. This helps in balancing the skin's pH and prepares it for the next steps. Moisturizing: A good moisturizer keeps my skin soft and supple throughout the day. Since I have a preference for girly and feminine things, I always opt for moisturizers that have a subtle feminine fragrance. Sunscreen: Living in Texas, it's vital to protect my skin from the sun. I always wear sunscreen with SPF 30 or more. This also helps in preventing premature aging. Evening Routine: Double Cleansing: After a day at the law firm and the occasional weekend beautician work, it’s crucial to get rid of all the makeup, dirt, and sweat. I start with an oil-based cleanser followed by a water-based one. Exfoliation (twice a week): I exfoliate to get rid of dead skin cells. This helps my skin breathe and feel smooth. Toning: Rebalances my skin. Night Cream: I use a night cream that's a bit richer than my day moisturizer. It helps in the skin's rejuvenation process overnight. Eye Cream: To keep those under-eye areas hydrated and reduce the appearance of fine lines. Waxing and Hair Removal: Waxing: Twice a month, I get a full-body wax. It not only removes hair but also exfoliates, leaving the skin smooth. Post-Wax Care: After waxing, I use a soothing aloe vera gel to calm any inflammation. Nair Hair Removal Cream: About a week after waxing, if there's any regrowth, I use Nair to get rid of those pesky hairs. Its fragrance leaves my skin smelling beautiful and feeling silky smooth. Scent Secrets: Sensual Perfumes: I have a collection of perfumes that I adore. Each morning, choosing one is like selecting the right outfit. I enjoy scents that are a mix of floral and musk as they exude femininity and sensua

Here is my experience with the bimbo:She worked at a car dealership as a receptionist when we met. She dressed conservatively, never showing much skin. She was pretty, but could have really been a 10 with better hair/make-up etc. She was slim, had a round ass, and her best feature - her glorious D cups. She was simple minded. We fucked on the first date and by the third date she asked to stop at a pharmacy. She point blank said, "I'm going to pick up some lube so you can fuck me in the ass tonight". We starting dating and getting to know each other. I learned it was fine to be a bit aggressive with her. When she was in the mood, she fucked like a raunchy porn star. She loved to be dirty or nasty. She loved ass to mouth, spit/sloppy blowjobs, being spit on, getting/giving rimjobs. Even with unbelievable tits, nobody is perfect. Outside the bedroom, dealing with her became a chore. She could be very childish and whiny, constantly complaining. Also very stubborn or moody at times. She could also be demanding. I liked the slut a lot more than I liked the girlfriend. One day she'd wake me up with a blowjob and the next she wouldn't speak to me because I forgot to wear the cologne she bought me. Or She'd pick a restaurant, not like the food, and be in a bad mood all night. It became difficult to deal with her inconsistent behavior. It became she was really only good for one thing. And after a night of her begging for ass to mouth, she said I treated her too much like my "slut instead of [my] girlfriend". Things ended not long after. That's why I am open to find a girl who is more agreeable and build the bimbo onto her.

more to come here is a taste of the next part   Slave and pet are now preparing you for what will be the most by far the largest/greatest thing you have ever done in your whole life time.  This will truly test your love, might and soul.   You look around the lit up room and see a full dungeon for what is worth.  Rows of floggers, canes, cat-n-nines, hung so neatly, placed on one wall. You see several shapes, sizes, thicknesses and all different colors. You have never seen such a collection this large before.  Your attention is brought to the one that is glittering in the light, off to the left middle side.  It shimmers softly in the glow of the room.

You are too uptight and Never said you had to have multiple partners but you are way to dominant. You can deny this all you want but it is very clear and apparent. You might think you can submit in a committed relationship but you can’t. You won’t. It’s him conceding to your will and happiness. And that’s not submission. Its role play. And your excuses and justifications do not make this any less true. I’m sorry you don’t want to hear this and ignore its validity but it is true. You simply don’t care and then wonder why it’s so hard for you to find someone. Someone wrote this to me, all because in response to a statement he wrote, I responded I dont just play with anyone, I am not a slut.

Dallas — April 23–25 I’ll be in the city briefly, and I don’t waste time on unfocused or unprepared men. I’m open to select company while I’m there—but understand this is not casual, and it’s not for those who need to be convinced of their place. I will not be alone. My wife will be present—she is intelligent, composed, and fully aware of my dynamic. You will conduct yourself with the same level of respect, awareness, and restraint you would expect in the presence of accomplished women. This is not a space for nervous energy, over-talking, or performative behavior. I expect presence, discretion, and a clear understanding of how to approach properly. You should come prepared—mentally, logistically, and otherwise. I don’t guide from the ground up in a limited window. If you understand structure, composure, and how to present yourself with intention, you may be worth my time. Dallas is a short stay. Make your approach count. — Mistress Nikki Vixen

Cookies. I promised several people that, if this adventure happened, I would write it up and share it in my journal. well, it indeed did happen last evening, Saturday, but not exactly as I thought I had it planned.  The set up for this story is that I did some work for a woman living in a over 55 community and only charged her for the material costs which I commonly do when I first work for someone I want them to like the work and not worry about the price. she was very grateful and gave me one of those looks like she was ready to pay me back in a way if you know what I mean and then she said: I'm sure you can think of something that I can do for you and shot me a wicked smile I knew that was my opportunity so I very calmly said: Willl you bake me pecan chocolate chip cookies? She let out what could only be described as a horse laugh, which I'm sure they heard in the adjoining units on either side. and then I followed up with, but that's not all, I want you to bake those cookies naked with 8 inch by heels, fishnet stockings and garter and a bright red ball gag. there was a long pause, kind of like dead air on a radio station and she finally opened her mouth and said you've got to be kidding! I'm not burning my boobs so that you can get off on some weird fetish! And I said OK what about wearing a tight swea and no bra? I expected another flat out no response but she said yes I think I could do that. But I'll also be wearing a skirt, nothing less than that, and no ball gag! And if That isn't good enough then you can go bake your own cookies! While it wasn't what I'd hoped for, I was still going to get my cookies, so on Saturday I came over with the ingredients she told me to get, and I sat in her kitchen, drinking coffee, while she walked back-and-forth across her kitchen in her very tight, white fuzzy sweater, and a very tight short leather skirt, plus stockings and heels, and she was an absolute delight to view. The blush in her cheeks said it all. But the best part was, she was actually baking my cookies! Once they were bagged, she Pulled them from the oven, tucked the tray up under her breasts and she said, would you like a cookie little boy? YES, Yes I would! then I asked so are all those cookies in the tray mine? Or should I ask if everything on the tray is mine? She just smiled and put the tray on the counter. She grabbed me by the hand, pulled me down the hall. We walked into her bedroom and she took off her sweater., God, those were better than any cookies!  We did all sorts of things that evening and late into the night. Considerind we're both in our mid to late 60s, so it wasn't like your first high school sex, in the back of your dad's car, but it was close.  in the morning, I woke up to the sun streaming in on my face lying next to a woman who still had her stockings and garter belt on, my head nestled between her large breasts, one of her arms underneath me,the other around my neck, and I thought to myself.... life is good! Lou  

So I'm at the gym today  I witness this tall white male with an extremely fit body in these light blue tights with a tiny tiny bulge it was giving squirrel nuts. Now that's not the issue! I watch him go and put all the weights he could find on to the leg press thingamajiig, and I mean it was filled to the rim (no pun intended) He lays flat on his back and lift the weights with his legs. Now here is where things got interesting. He just lifted the weight (that was obviously to heavy) one time and strained for at least 10 minutes. I mean not one single rep done. Veins popped out of his forehead and sweating like a hydrated crackhead. I asked my friend should I go ask him if he would like to come to my BDSM party because he must just enjoy pain 

What I like about being a Bull Sometimes I am asked what I like about being a Bull with a cuckold couple. That is not an easy question to answer, but I’ll try. I’m a dominant person, and always have been. I like being the one in charge. So I naturally tend to find myself at the top of the food chain in every situation. When I’m with a couple there are several elements that appeal to me, which make the relationship more appealing than the traditional boyfriend & girlfriend. First, a married woman is in it for the sex. Her motivations are not unlike ours (men). She is not looking for a relationship (she has one). She is not looking for drama (she wants none). She will not hound you or stalk you or pester you like many single women. With a married woman it’s all about the sex. When you meet with her (or them) there will be little small talk, socializing or wasting time. Sex is on her mind, and it’s everyone's goal. Once her and your sexual cravings are satisfied she will go back home, with or to her husband. It’s perfect for someone like me who enjoys frequent, explosive sex with someone who is only too willing to provide it. So, my first answer is sex, sex and more sex. But there are other sides to it, too. Believe it or not I like helping other couples spice things up. I know Bulls are often painted as selfish, cock-wielding studs that are interested only in themselves, but that’s not usually the case. I, and others like me, enjoy interacting with couples and helping them reignite their flame in the bedroom. Like I mentioned, I am dominant and I enjoy the domination theme. It’s empowering to have a woman offer herself to me, especially when it’s a beautiful married woman who would normally be off-limits to anyone except her husband. Say what you want, but there is something edgy about hitting a pussy that was promised to someone else, especially when the wife is a stone cold fox, and someone you would NEVER suspect of being a submissive slut for another man behind closed doors. Last, I love being dominant over a couple in the husband's presence. There’s something deeply satisfying when I see a husband silently watch me ravage his wife in their marital bed, knowing that he’s getting off on the whole show. Most husbands I know are not submissive. However they do become extremely passive when I assert myself in their presence. Not only does this appeal to me, but I enjoy the wife’s reaction as well. The more passive the husband is the more sexually responsive the wife becomes, and that leads to even better sex. Once you have taken the time to build a good cuckold relationship with the right couple the encounters can become intense, fulfilling and practically addictive. What man would not want that?

Polite heads up to anyone I engage with. I am a real person, with real honest values, with a real job in the public sector. I hop on in the middle of the night but during work time frame you will never see me on here. I actually enjoy serving the community but my goal was to find like minded individuals to have an open relationship. Open to me means we are single and not married and freely respecting our bodies and choices (can't be done when your married your disrespecting your wife and kids, you got problems at home pay for your wifes gym membership and have that honest chat to turn things around don't come to me). I don't entertain time wasters. I do expect the men I engage with to be employed, be in good job, be generous. No I am not trying to con you, nor get your bank balance, I am not entertaining another bad experience where I discover on multiple dates I am the only one paying the bill and a 5 day date cost me £400 because the other person was a cheapskate. I am independent, I am generous but I am no longer entertaining time wasters. Other than that have a nice day.   C

Last week, someone shared MeatLoaf's video for "I would do anything for love" in one of the FB goth groups. I hadn't seen it in years. Like... a decade or more.  It had the same immediate effect it had the first time. ( I recognize I have some monster fetish issues. Don't judge. LOTS of people felt the same way about it. Nyyaahhh.)  The imagery was specifically tailored to pull in notes from Beauty and the Beast, as well as Bram Stoker's Dracula, among other things. Stories of a soulful, tortured man, cursed to be ugly and alone, desperately longing for the beautiful woman he feels would never want him in return. Body language of self-loathing, body and facial expressions of agony and adoration, pain and passion. Always hiding just out of her sight, sometimes almost within reach before rushing away to escape his suffering...smashing mirrors and covering his face...  Meanwhile, she wanders around in the luxury of his castle, surrounded by silks and candlelight, soaking herself in a huge bathtub, stretching out on a curtained bed of satin sheets...  Classical romance. Heady stuff. And the same silly part inside me that got sucked in by similar images in the old fairytale stories when I was VERY young responded. Re-watching it a few times. Re-writing it and building a lovely fantasy where it's me he sees in the garden, me wandering through the castle halls... me looking around at the obvious roaring fire that someone lit, and the wine that someone had opened, the bath someone had run, ... and then who I am gets in the way.  I can't quite get my head around walking into a house where someone obviously lived, and had just been in that room, and just making myself at home. Because I READ the fairy tales. The OLD versions. WHO lit the fire? Who's bed is this? Am I Goldilocks here, using up someone else's hot water, eating their dinner, etc? Because I know what happened to her after they find her, whereas the modern versions end on a much more PG note. Or am I in a beautiful pitcher plant, seduced by the opulence in preparation for digesting? Because that's what it would be in a fairy tale if you wander in uninvited and start helping yourself to whatever without express consent.  Even his beautiful, plaintive lyrics, sung with such sincerity and emotion start to give me pause one I start looking at them closer. (You know about me n lyrics...)  "I would do anything for love..." OK, but are you saying you would do anything to HAVE love in your life? Orthat you would do anything for the person you love? Or anything in the name of love that your loved one asked? Or just ... what? I need more clarification, please. I don't want to be going along thinking one thing, and then find out I misunderstood.  And then we get into "anything." I mean, he does state "I will never lie to you" which is very much appreciated, and ideally, the whole song does seem to aim in the direction of "I want to make you happy" but... at the same time, I've lived a long time in the real world, and "anything" can be pretty terrifying if you have experience and imagination.   Would he kill a rival? Would he keep her prisoner in this beautiful settling until she gave in? Would he MAKE her love him with magic? He obviously has a lot of power at his disposal to do those kinds of things. I have a lot of experience, and a huge imagination.  And would "anything" extend to controlling that mirror-destroying temper if she disagreed with him or rejected him? Because he spends some of the video kinda snarling in his frustration, clenching his fists, etc.  Would it include exposing his deepest fears and risking himself emotionally to connect with her? Because spends most of the video avoiding that.  He sings that "no one can save me now but you." Will he love her even if turns out she can't? Does "anything" cover acceptance of failings and limitations?  As you can guess, my fantasy breaks down into logic puzzles and communication complications and 'what would I do if I didn't have this outside perspective to know how all this opulence was being provided?'  Which turns it into an entirely different kind of fantasy, I guess, because I've heard "I'd do anything" more times than I could count, and it always falls apart the first time "anything" includes something they hadn't already planned to do.  I guess I'm not really meant for fairy tales anymore. On the upside, it makes me more grateful for my sweetie, because while he isn't a monster/wizard/whatever with unlimited power, and he can't provide "anything" I may want, he tries not to make promises he can't keep, and he tries to provide what he can that is within his power. He also appreciates what I do in return, so... Maybe that is the modern fairy tale - good communication, honest effort, and sincere caring.  I do wish it came with the magical 'self cleaning house' thing, but I will have to live without.

Part 2  So we moved to a new bigger house and soon I discovered the brothers that would start me down the path that turned me into what I am today. So the brothers slightly older were loud , bold and of course very dominate. For the first few months things were normal , but soon things took a decidedly darker turn.   Things started with them hazing me at school , and the long walk from the bus stop . On the bus they didn't know me but as soon as we got off at the end of the street they would start , and when the girls that lived next to their house were there they puffed up and would show off , having me carry all the books , and taunt me.. I was just happy for the attention... and I got a lot of it from them, especially when summer vacation came from school . That's when things became intense.  At first it was fantasy role play , but  there was always some excuse to tie me to a tree or tie me and lead me through the forest that was behind our houses . Within a few weeks,  the clothes were off when I was tied, and they would leave to go home and get lunch , but always return with something for me. that I had to eat without hands. Then around the middle of that first summer the boys got a tent and set it up in the woods by the house,  far enough away to be partially hidden , and keep curious parents from dropping in.   The tent is where my training really began. From simple ties.  To elaborate  ties , to whipping with branches , to inserting things in me , the summer flew by and I finally felt I belonged , I felt the brothers cared for me , and wanted me , and I wanted to please , I ed to nothing for fear I would again be alone if I did. I remember feeling it was wrong somehow, but I didn't care , I was wanted, and that was all that matter. As things continued to progress they seemed to take good of their roles and the pain became more intense as the whipping increased in both duration and force . The  s I was to take and hold inside became bigger. One day one brother had me tied over a stool  in the tent and was working a candle in me. After he had covered me with the hot wax  from the same candle. when the other brother came over pulled my hair to raise my head and stuck his crotch in my face I could feel his hard cock under the jeans as he rubbed across my face.. I moaned and bucked forward as the candle went deep , and I was pushed into those jeans ,I could feel the heat , and the dampness from his precum. That was to much I guess and before I knew it his pants were off and his hard cock was pushing against my lips I felt a sharp pain as a paddle came down hard on my ass,  and I opened my mouth to protest and it was immediately filled with a hard  cock.  It made me gag and my eyes tearup , but it felt good and he was holding my head , and telling me to relax and how good it felt , so me being the submissive I am, i relaxed into the feelings and took as much of him as I could . He held my head firm , and began to stroke my mouth Stopping occasionally so I could catch my breath , and he could make sure I was alright. It made me feel good , wanted and in my own way loved.  Upon seeing this the other brother started rubbing his hard cock on my ass and between my  cheeks. He took out the candle and put something cool over my hole and pushed his fingers in and moved them around to spread what he had applied , next I felt something hard and warm push against me and begin to slide in , it was about the size of the candlethat was just removed.  But softer , I felt him slide in until his body was hitting mine. It hurt not bad , but an exciting hurt . It was something crazy, and naughty , but felt so good . All at once  things began to flow ,and each alternated their thrusts so I was being bounced between the two hard cocks inside me I had two hands on my head , and two on my waist pulling me deep in each direction. I felt wonderful despite the pain,  I relaxed and began to not only enjoy it but make it better ,I used my tongue and lips on the hard cock in my mouth , and  I began to contract my muscles to squeeze the cock in my ass . To soon the brother fucking my ass began to come, I didn't want him to pull out so I ground back on his still hardcock , and kept him inside until the other brother came in my mouth. It was hot and tasted strange , both brothers fell back to the floor of the tent laughing , that laugh you have when you just finished a great orgasm . Me I was still bound to the stool  but I was squirming , holding my mouth open wanting more . I had changed during those  last few minutes , and became a sexual animal ,  lost my innocence, virginity and any dominance  that might have remained.  I felt more loved and wanted than I ever had before and I knew I was meant to serve and destined to be a toy for hard cocks , and much later wet pussies, but that's a story for another day .  So the brothers fucking me became a daily thing that summer , and would spend many nights camping out tied in someway usually covered on cum.  When school started things were different , I wasnt hazed,  the brothers treated me like a prized pet , taking care of me protecting me , making me feel I belonged.  Sex became more rare , only ocassionally away from the tent  and maybe on weekends as the brothers began to have other Activities and friends , we had several more summers , but none as intense as that first one when they brought me out . By the last summer with them I was insatiable. I was addicted and they knew it . They begin to have other freinds join our camp outs , and they would always have me pleasure their guests,  one time I time I remember they had several freinds over , I was made to jerk off in a bowl in front of all of them , then suck each one until they came each in turn adding their cum to bowl. Then I was made to lap the cum from the bowl and move on all fours  while they all talked and drank some liquor one of boys took from his home . Soon I was tied , and once again the center of attention as I was fucked, and whipped until everyone fell asleep . This was one of the last times we were together , they had both grown and had girlfriends , so I was not as important , they did have one more surprise for me before we were done . This starts another chapter in my life ... for next time . 

I think one of the hardest parts for people who are interested in me as a domme who are strictly online or faraway is that I am very extroverted I check messages and forget to reply . I do a lot in my vanilla life and I'm moderately popular. I just went to 2 birthday parties, I have another next week. I go to bbqs, camping, raves, hiking, etc. And I'm also very involved in my local community. Speaking of hiking I had such a nice conversation with a pup about work out routines and how I enjoy a lot of scenery where I am and would love to one day take him on a walk 💗 very sweet. But all of that to say: as much as I get hundreds of messages and would love to get to everyone, I am very picky with where I put my time as a Goddess. As well as aware of how many people want my attention. That is just the nature of the lifestyle  But I hope you all keep your faith. Perhaps get in your knees and pray your Goddess will rescue you from your day to day life.

Why are humiliations beneficial for me? Humiliations help me develop humility by reminding me that I am not perfect and that I have limitations. Facing them with serenity strengthens my patience and my ability to endure punishments or training calmly. Additionally, it is an opportunity to practice forgiveness towards those who humiliate me and to develop greater compassion towards them. Receiving humiliations helps me let go of my ego and the need for recognition or approval from my Teacher. These experiences, seen as tests or challenges, contribute to my growth and the strengthening of my character when they are overcome. They also prompt deep reflection and self-examination, leading to greater self-awareness and understanding of my own weaknesses and strengths. Accepting humiliations strengthens my dedication and trust in my Teacher, recognizing that everything happens for a reason and has a purpose in her plans.

Someone male on the other kink site was talking about dating as a market, and when the "dick is plentiful" comment came up as a point of why it doesn't "sell" he got a bit butthurt.  When someone else tried to point out that dicks are generally attatched to men, and so the problem wasn't the dicks but the men they are attatched to, the quality of which vary a lot, he said "In general, a shirt is not necessarily better than another shirt"Which granted, is absolutely in my wheelhouse to respond to with an informed opinion, so this was my comment.   "Actually, as someone with an education in fashion merchandising/design, and as a costumer, I can say that is not at all accurate. Quality is an easily defined set of properties, such as the tye of materials used, workmanship, colorfastness of dye, functionality of design, etc and varies HUGELY from one shirt to the next. Which is why a shirt from the dollar store may be good enough for a few months, but may soon start to pull apart at the seams, or fade, or wear through, or shrink and become misshapen, etc. whereas a shirt that looks similar from a better manufacturer may last for years and still look fine. I have several shirts my Dad wore for years before he died, which I have now worn as an overshirt for gardening, etc for the two decades since.  I have also bought similar looking shirts new at Walmart and they fell apart within a couple years.   Quality matters. Being an educated consumer matters. Learning to recognize quality, and what to look for before you purchase is the difference between having to replace said shirts frequently, vs keeping something you like for as long as you want it, and possibly even passing it on if you no longer need it.   The same can be said for partners.  So it's important to understand what quality is in people, as well as shirts, and learn how to spot it and the lack of it, and learn to take your time shopping to avoid buyer's remorse. Or even debt and bad contracts...   "Maybe there are fuckbois who one can easily replace if that's what your view of men on average is." Exactly. There are fuckbois, and posers, and trash toys, and upstanding quality men. There are men who do the work to become better, to do the right thing, to play fair and self-manage, etc, and men that just wanna get dat dick wet. There are pretty people, plain people,  low quality people, high quality people, people who are pretty and cheap, people who are less pretty but quality, and vice versa.  You either learn to appreciate quality over superficial properties, or you bounce from crap to crap to crap, always wondering why nothing is ever as good as it looks and everything starts SO nice but never lasts.   As to what market? Dating is advertizing, more than anything.  You have what you have, and they have what they have, and you have to figure out what you want, and how to trade what you have for what you want. Fortunately, you can add to what you have in lots of ways, if what you want is out of reach at a given time. Learn new skills - dancing cooking, massage, etc. Dress better, spiff your appearance. Read books on relationships. Hit the gym. But you have to find out what THEY want, figure out if you can provide it (or are willing to lie about it, as many do) and then learn to explain how what you have will provide what they want.   As someone once said - you don't sell shovels, you sell holes.  "A customer’s ultimate goal is not a product but a change and improvement to their life. "   A man should not try to sell his dick to a woman.  Dicks are EVERYWHERE.  There are literally stores full of dicks that don't even require another person.  No matter how amazing a guy's dick is, I can go buy one better, and not have to bother with having a guy and what he wants attatched.   So, what a man needs to sell is *orgasms*.  And if he wants to be more than just a one-off, he needs to sell the aweome fun before and after the sex.  A submissive man needs to sell how he will make a Domme's life easier and more comfortable. A Dominant man needs to sell how safe and valued his sub will feel.   Sell the value point - how having whatever you are selling will improve the potential buyer's experience. Will is lessen the workload? Provide pleasure?    Increase security? Create comfort? Ease pain? Improve something they already enjoy?    THOSE are what need to be in someone's profile and first emails if they want to find their "market share" and get what they want here.

As required by my Dom, I publicly declare the following: I am subMeghan, and as I type this this, I am completely nude, except for my dog collar and glasses… Today’s Journal Topic Is: Why The Fuck Haven’t I Posted Any More Journal Updates! I actually get this question a lot.  Unfortunately, that’s part of the problem.  Apparently, you guys are actually reading my journals!  And why, pray tell, is that a bad thing? Well, I’m going to tell you… When I first started journaling here, I wrote as if I was speaking into the void.  I wasn’t writing for an audience, rather I was writing merely for the sake of publicly letting my inner thoughts leave my body and go forth into the vast e-universe.  I thought I was just a “voice in the wilderness” to be lost in the chasm of anonymity. It was a stream of consciousness, a flow of thoughts. It was kinda like talking outloud to yourself, not thinking anyone was listening. However… that was not the case...  You were listening.  And now you all had access to the part of my psyche that I kept hidden away, kept in the shadows, away from “polite” society.  And worse yet…  You had questions! I had mistakenly thought that CS was just another fetish website that was here today, and then be gone tomorrow like so many other sites.  Boy, was I wrong.  LOL I stopped writing because I became very self-conscious.  VERY self-conscious.  I quickly ran away from the spotlight as soon as I felt it’s light upon my exposed soul.  Who the hell am I to have the audacity to think I have anything of substance to say to a listening world? I have never liked being the center of attention.  I am a wallflower, the kind of gal that always stands at the edges of a crowd.  I am quiet, reserved, and passive.  I am a watcher, an observer - not a performer.  And certainly not, heaven forbid, an extrovert! Over time, I’ve been able to reflect.  I’ve decided to start posting again.  I suspect the tone of my journal entries will change, much like Schrodinger's cat, now that I am aware that I’m being watched.  We’ll see.  I will let this journal entry be the start of a new chapter in subMeghan’s ongoing adventure. Here’s to the journey! subMeghan    

When you decide to approach me for consideration and I trial you, your role & goal is to acquiese to MY lifestyle/desires.    That "previous training" is moot to me. I give subzero fucks about what's easier for you & how you used to do things. If you're just chasing the feeling you had with someone/something else then you're an addict, shifting the ideal from tacitly serving to satisfying your own urges and desires-- hence why you perpetually fuck up this elusive dynamic you long for. That will never be worth my time and/or effort.   It is MY WAY, no fucking 'or' involved... ever.

THE NIGHT I MET BRIAN, part 1   Towering over most people at 6'8" (in boots), he was hard to miss. Every time I looked at him, he was already staring at me. Due to circumstances at the time that I'd rather not get into, we'd nod an acknowledgement to one another, but never spoke. Tall, skinny, a bit on the younger side, he bordered on awkward, yet simultaneously confident. Our first real conversation happened online, on a BDSM board called Recon. I didn't realize I was chatting with him at first, though the height in his description made me wonder. He was polite when he contacted me. He used complete sentences and asked thoughtful questions. Once we traded photos, we both had a kind of "wow, it's you" moment. Then the conversation turned to what we were there for. Are you interested in doing a scene? What kind of scene? He told me he'd already had fantasies about tying me up and making me worship his (size 14!) boots. He certainly knew how to talk to me and keep my attention. He'd observed me several times observing his boots, a very astute observation for a 25yo. (Even moreso for someone his real age.) We discussed what we wanted in a scene, what we didn't want, as well as sexual fantasies, past experiences, things we'd like to try eventually, etc. We agreed on a scene that would involve bondage, humiliation and boot worship, but not sex. Although we were not averse to sex (and were very much sexually attracted to one another), we agreed that focusing on our mutual interests in S&M would be more than enough to satisfy us both. After some discussion and negotiation, I was ordered to show up at a designated address (later in the week, following more nodding and flirting and anticipation), wearing head to toe leather. Once admitted inside, I was to kneel submissively before him and let him take it from there. As when I saw him before, he was dressed in military fatigues and combat boots, which I would come to learn was his everyday look. He started off by admonishing me for being late. I wasn't late, but I also wasn't inclined to start off the scene arguing with him. He reached down and with a single finger, pulled the collar of my leather shirt away from my body, not-so-subtly surveying what would be his for the next few hours. He asked me a few innocuous questions while cuffing my hands behind my back. He made the cuffs tight enough to be unforgiving, but not so tight as to lose circulation. He picked up my backpack and asked if I'd brought everything we'd discussed. He dumped the contents on the floor and picked up the leather slave collar he told me to bring. He held it up to my neck and said, "I like it." He made the collar as tight as the cuffs, but not so tight that I couldn't breathe. He definitely knew what he was doing. Next came the blindfold, something we hadn't discussed. After a momentary freak-out, I decided not to protest. Aside from being against the rules, I really wanted to see (ha ha) where this was heading. He had given me a vague idea of what was in store, but left the details to my imagination. I'd entered his house through the back door, which was closer to the basement. Bound and blindfolded, I was led carefully down the 4 stairs to the awaiting basement where I'd spend the next few hours under his control. He sat me in a chair and proceeded to bind me, fully leathered, in layers of rope. Rope around my chest, around my legs just above the knees, rope around my ankles. Tight, restrictive and unforgiving. He knew how to tie a good knot, later revealing that he honed this skill during his time as a boy scout. ("Yes, I did learn something useful in the scouts!") What he did next was unnerving. He pulled up a chair and sat right in front of me, staring in silence. For the longest time, I could feel his eyes burning into me, but he said nothing. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Now that he had me all tied up and helpless, was he reconsidering? Time seemed to stretch on forever. Just how long had we been sitting there? I couldn't stand it, and finally spoke up."Sir?""SPEAK!""Sir? What can I do to please you, Sir?""YOU CAN SIT THERE AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!"Now, I've known since birth that I'm different. But I cannot describe how turned-on I was by being told so forcefully to shut up. I briefly considered apologizing for my transgression, but that wouldn't have been shutting the fuck up, now, would it?He continued to stare at me silently, then abruptly stood up and said, "I am very disappointed with what rung my doorbell. I'm going to let you sit here and think about that." I could hear him walk slowly up the stairs, turn off the basement light and slam the door shut, leaving me, leathered and bound and blindfolded, alone in the darkness. Left alone for what seemed like an hour (it was actually 20 minutes), my imagination ran wild. I could hear him walking back and forth upstairs, possibly to taunt me? At one point, I started to wonder if he'd forgotten about me. But then I could hear the distinctive sound of his boots hitting each step as he re-entered the basement. Each step made me hornier with anticipation than the last."Miss me?" he asked as he rubbed my leather-clad crotch, running his strong hands firmly up my chest, and then through my hair. He asked me a personal question, which I attempted to evade, until he grabbed my hair and jerked my head back. "Michael, when I ask you a question, you answer it, promptly and honestly. Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir!" Surprised to learn that despite all the rope, I wasn't actually tied to the chair, he lifted me out of the chair and gently set me face down, still blindfolded, on the concrete floor. After a brief pause, he ordered me to lick his boots. My cock lurched in my leather pants at the command, but no sooner than I laid my tongue on his boot, he pulled it away and walked to the other side of the room. "I'm over here, Michael," he taunted. Still fully-leathered and tightly-bound, I started to wriggle my body across the hard, unforgiving concrete floor, thankful for my leather padding, toward the sound of his voice. Moving was laborious and exhausting, but I eventually arrived at this awaiting boot. He moved a second time. I hesitated. "MY BOOTS AREN'T GOING TO LICK THEMSELVES, MICHAEL!" Right. So, I once again wriggled across the concrete floor in the general direction of his voice.He didn't move when I arrived at his boot for the third time. Humiliated and horny, I ran my tongue along his size 14 with greedy hunger, coating it in a thin layer of my saliva, only able to imagine the shine I hoped it left behind. I switched boots when he commanded, and having coated the foot portion in my saliva, was running my tongue up the boot shaft when I noticed that he'd started breathing heavily. Was he jacking off?  Had he abandoned our "no sex" agreement? As if reading my mind, he said in a clipped and mildly breathless manner, "I want to fuck you.""OK," I responded. "Do you want me to fuck you, Michael?""Yes. Yes, I do." I could feel my precum slickening the thong I wore under my leather pants.He pressed his size 14 between my shoulder blades. "You mean, 'Yes, Sir, I do.'""Yes, Sir, I do." I was about to fucking burst!"I need you to say, 'Yes, Sir, I want you to fuck me.'"I knew he was asking for consent. Although I would've enjoyed it either way, I was relieved that he asked for consent. This meant that he was not a psychopath."Yes, Sir, I want you to fuck me." Things hadn't gone exactly as planned, but flexibility is a crucial life skill.   continued

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

The phone rang, his voice on the line Hello slut Hello, Sir she responds. Cunt aching beneath her belt, craving. Touch... Craving play. Her permission to play has seemed to shifted into teases and torments. As this evenings task, she must fill her wholes and they are to be locked in place. As he ended the call his last words - enjoy your torments, girl She replied thank you, Sir... It's a very good thing she didn't share her pouts.. they would not have her any good..and if she did... He has the ability to keep adding to her torments... Nope... Thank you Sir, is always a perfect response. Once the call was completed, she placed her locking tongue gag in her mouth and proceeded to try and accomplish something .. a bit messy and drooling from her gag. Driving home with her gag in She comes home from the office, her pants go right into the washer as they were soaked in the scent of her arousal. She entered the bedroom and already she could smell her arousal feeling the room. She was Afraid to unlock her belt, as all of the sensations rise to the surface and she's already horny... And not sure how much more she can take... But she will endure. Sir chose her biggest largest plug that she is still getting accustomed to. She got it in place, and chose to write slut on her on her feet and then placed a cock shaped toy in her cunt. Sent him a couple pictures, a before and after showing him, the task he set for her has been followed. Asking to remove the gag for dinner, she practically waddled her way up the stairs to have dinner with the house mate.. Attempting to sit in a kitchen chair, while overly stuffed, was a tricky situation.. each movement.. Different out comes .. some okay.. some were reminder aas to just what a slut she truly is. After dinner, she returned downstairs, and then proceeded to ask Sir, his preference in which gag to wear, she knew which one he'd choose, and he did... The halter gag. So this girl is spending the evening with everyone of her wholes filled, everything is locked in place... The torments of pictures on fet, the ache in her body to be used, the wanting to do something but In ways she's feeling lost... She's not had this experience in a long while... I'm ways she's pouting not being able to play, though she run her fingers over the belt and the plug.. the tease felt good and she's greatful to not have her wholes empty while she's locked and denied entry. No idea what's in-store... Not even going to ask.. was hoping to have a weekend of play while him and his girl goes away... I'm being obedient, doing as tasked... It's been. A quiet night

Let me clarify what I am seeking here instead of changing my profile.While all the crossdressers having the fantasy of being "kept" and on hormones and living as a woman 24/7 with nothing to do except be a sex toy seem to have plenty of masturbatory fodder, and some constantly write to me seeking this exact thing, let me make a few points as to what I am seeking personally. I am seeking a sincere PART TIME cd, closeted or not, that is willing to work hard as a male in the day and switch into femme mode at nights and on weekends. If you believe some sort of a collapse is NOT coming and think everything is going to be just hunky-dory in the future, then please move on from my profile and back to your fantasy world. I am looking for people that share my vision; to be living on a ranch and create a sustainable life. If we need to go off grid that is certainly an option that I am getting prepared for. But it is HARD work. I know, I know, nobody wants to do that anymore. If you are willing to put in the time, and the effort, the rewards will be great. As far as our mutual crossdressing fetish goes, we will indulge that every chance we get. I am the strict Domme Mommy type and very into tight and shiny fetish wear and bondage games. I seek someone that can find her place at my feet. I am hopeful there is one c/d out there that all this resonates with and wishes to relocate. If so, write. 

Dont be afriad to talk to me, but can we talk about life first. Always opened to talking to  Doms Dommes Switches Slaves Subs. 

She is Fickle i am bound and gagged, helpless and vulnerable, and the Lady i have surrendered to inflicts exquisite agonies upon me. The distinctively male parts of my anatomy are often the focus of Her attention, and She imposes Her sadistic will upon me as i squirm and quiver within my bonds. my blubbering and whimpering empower Her; they bring Her joy and feed Her passion. i have dreamed of serving Her since before i knew what sexuality is, and my joy and passion are the reflection of Hers. i am a painslut; i sometimes think of myself as my Lady's whimperbitch. my serving as Her whimperbitch, however, is but one facet of my surrender. i have given complete control of my sexuality to Her. She keeps it locked away when i am not in Her presence. She needn't do so when i am; Her will is my chastity device, and Her will is my law, in this and all matters. If i am made to go weeks without sexual release, and am teased mercilessly and relentlessly during this time, i am to adore Her for it, and i do, even as my raging desire drowns out my every thought. She will sometimes allow me to beg for fulfillment, and i do so with all my heart. When She grants me what i crave, i adore Her for it, as i do when She does not. i crave being in Her power, and Her wielding of it thrills me. She creates the world in which She owns me. She makes not only the rules and protocols which i do all that i can to conform to, but also the fundamental laws of the reality in which i serve Her. She remakes them as it pleases Her, according to Her fickle whimsies, and sometimes without advance notice. The burden is on me to discern and comform to the laws of the newest new order. The likelihood of my doing so will often be low, and i must not find this unfair. The laws She makes are like the laws the Big Bang made; they are as they are. They impose their will upon me as they are written; i live among them as i can. Perhaps She trains me to address Her with many different titles: Mistress, Goddess, Empress, Princess, My Lady, Mea Domina, and as many more as it pleases Her. It is my task to discern which She prefers at any given moment. My success rate may not be high. So be it. Perhaps Her preferences in this matter reflect a deeper reality. Perhaps each title refers to a different facet of Her Dominant persona, and it is my duty to discern which is at the fore at any given time. What's more, there may be a unique set of laws which correspond to each of Her personas, and again, it is my duty to discern which laws apply. Perhaps Her demeanor will offer hints, but perhaps not. So be it. She moves me between worlds with but a thought, and i adore Her for it.

 urbanleatherlife