Hey the journal function is finally fixed!! Time to write a story about one of my (our) experiences: I shut the car door and wave goodbye to my husband, P. He blows me a kiss and pulls away. I wait until he's turned the corner and out of sight until I begin to walk up my master's driveway. It's a short walk, the house set back from the street but my path leads me into the open garage. Once past the threshold, I press the button to shut the garage door behind me. As it trundles on its tracks, I grab my sweater and pull it over my head in one quick motion. I won't need it again this weekend. My shoes, jeans, panties and socks all follow. I savor taking them off and folding them neatly, making the moment last. My backside is still sore from the punishment I received one week earlier. It had been a maid week and I had done an inadequate job with the chores. My master did not let it slide and he wanted to make sure I remember. As I stroked my bruised cheeks, I hoped it would be a kitten week. Something nice and easy, where I could be cherished and all I needed to think about was pleasure. The crate is open and I place my clothes inside. My cell phone follows along with my keys. With a sigh, I shut the crate and padlock it. Master will come and take my phone in due time, better to document my weekend for P's enjoyment and my potential humiliation. But the clothes are gone. Feeling the chill of the garage on my feet, I enter "the servant's entrance" as we jokingly call it.  Three boxes await me in the foyer. Oh shit. This is different. Usually I have no choice in how I spend the weekend. It's always one box, with either the maid's costume, the cat ears, or ... the other. But with three gift wrapped boxes in front of me, it's up to fate.  I can't open one box and change my mind. Not that disobeying master is ever an option. Whichever one I open is my weekend of service.  Can I weigh them? As I reach for the first box, I see a string attached. Nope, he'll know. I have to pick. Eenie. Meanie. Miney. "Ahem." A cleared throat from the other room. I'm in trouble already.  I make my decision and tear the wrapping paper off. Inside the box is ... Nothing. The slut this weekend, then. I walk into the living room, my hands folded in front of me, my eyes down. Master is sitting in his chair, drinking whiskey and reading. There's a pillow in front of him, directly between his feet. Keeping my eyes down, I kneel. He makes me wait, finishing this week's New Yorker. Occasionally my eyes flick up as I weigh my options. I could reach up and begin undoing his belt - the stretch of fabric in his lap tells me he's interested and excited for my weekly visit. I went for a wax earlier in the week and made sure to put my perfume on my skin so he could smell me no matter what I wore. And in my role as the slut, that would be in line with expectations. But I'm so conditioned to serve at command that I stay frozen.  He shakes his glass and I spring up to take it from his hand. I walk to the bar and as I reach for the whiskey, he says "The drawer." I open the top drawer. Inside is my collar, simple and black, a pair of silver handcuffs, and a red ballgag.  "Shall I--?" I start to ask. "Don't ask questions you should know the answer to," he says with disinterest.  OK then. I put the glass down and pick up the gag. I push it between my teeth and secure the belt behind my head. Next, the handcuffs. Does he want them in front or behind? I wish I could ask. The maid gets handcuffed in the front, so she can work. The slut, behind, so she has no control. So I slip the cuffs on behind my back, hearing the satisfied clink. But in my haste, I forgot the collar! It takes me several tries, standing on my tippy toes, mmphing with effort, to pick the collar up with my cuffed hands behind me. I trot to master happily. He finally looks at me. "My drink?" He asks. Damn it. What to do? I blink at him, fluttering my eyelashes. Push one foot in front of me and circle it back and forth on his loafer. Don't blame, I don't know any better? He takes the collar from me and cls it around my neck. Seizing my throat suddenly, he pulls me in close. "A slut does not mean you're stupid," he whispers in my ear.  One of our agreements when I first began serving him is that he'd never call me a bitch. A slut is something a person chooses to be. It's a sigh of power, both mine and his. I feel my body warm at his words and I lean down to rub my gagged mouth against his neck. He indulges me for a moment and then grabs a fistful of my hair. It's been a little while but I remember how slut weekends go. I'll be confined to the bedroom, chained to the bed most of the time. He'll film my submission and send it back to P. There's an entire box of toys for me to (mostly) enjoy, though the word "no" is gone from my vocabulary until Sunday night. My rest will be dependent on how often master wants me and how he wants me.  It will be a long, fun weekend.

Attending: Charmed 2023 Hypno-Kink Convention, in Annapolis, MD. I'm like a little Kid waiting for Christmas morning. These are some of the Hypnosis Classes I am interested in Attending: Hypno-Kink 101 All Dolled Up   - Dollification Erotic Hypnosis 101 101 Ways to go into Trance Ethical HypnoKink Brainwashing for Fun HypnoKink for Fungeon Shit Hypnotic D/s Roleplay   If your a Hypnotist in Atlanta, or a Potential Trance-Partner say hello. ""Sir"" Hugo

Be local, because I want to touch you I get that there’s a desire for online play, and that a lot of people are into it. That’s fine. People want what they want, and there’s nothing wrong with that: it’s how they go about getting it that’s the issue. I specifically request that my potential suitors be local because I’m not interested in online relationships. I want to meet you, get coffee or something, go for a walk, see your expressions while I hear your voice, evaluate your demeanor, feel if there’s any spark between us. If that spark exists, I want to touch you. I can’t do that online. Appreciation from afar is okay - I suppose, but unless you’re local or at least have already booked a visit to Seattle, I’m not interested. Visiting the Seattle for business or pleasure? Great. Hinting that it might happen if I give you enough online attention first? Nope. There are people here who are looking for online relationships. Feel free to talk to them, as they’re who you’re looking for. If that’s what you’re interested in, you’re not looking for me.

Who I Am I believe Mastery begins with self-mastery. I know what I want. I know what it costs. I have the discipline to follow through. Structure isn't a constraint for me, it's the foundation of Mastery. Yield control of your body, behaviors, and attitudes to me, and I will apply equal discipline in sculpting you into my vision of feminine perfection: a strong, confident, beautiful domestic goddess who knows her place is to love, serve, and please her man, and knows exactly how to do all three while being held to the highest standards.  Such a treasure is rare, and to be valued accordingly.   What & Who I'm Looking For Conversation by message primarily.  Perhaps supporting someone in exploring their submission and its link to femininity and inner nature more deeply, whether that be just talking about it, coaching, or some degree of connection. Your understanding of where you are is not important, your interest in discussing it is. I am open to and interested in messaging with a range of women at different places in their understanding of themselves.  I also love hearing about woman's fantasies (even if they'd never consider living them out), as I write a good deal of erotica and am always looking for good plot material.  If you've got some to share, who knows, maybe they'll make it into my next novella. Some women may just want to chat with someone who genuinely knows this life and will talk about it honestly, without agenda, without pressure, and with equal interest in its non-sexual dimensions as in anything else. That has real value and I mean it when I say I'm glad to have it. Some are further along. They know what they are but haven't found the right container for it. They want something structured, something that builds over time, a real dynamic even if it lives at a distance. That interests me as well. And then there is the woman who knows, somewhere beneath the surface, exactly what she is but hasn't found someone who could be trusted with all of it. The need is there, but not the means. A woman who wants not just to be led but to be genuinely shaped. Who understands that submission at its deepest includes being remade over time by someone with a clear and considered vision of what she is and what she could become. That isn't something I take lightly. It is the most intimate thing I know how to do. I'm open to exploring that with the right person, but it is not something I will enter into lightly. If the right person and the right circumstances were to intersect to where something in-person were to eventually become possible, I'm open to that too. That isn't a promise or a goal I'm pushing toward. It simply exists as a possible future out on the horizon, honestly named for what it is. Wherever you fall in that range, if this life calls to you in a way you haven't quite been able to satisfy or understand, reach out. You don't need to have it figured out first. If you find me interesting but are interested in something else - long distance dynamic, roleplay, casual conversation, whatever - reach out.  Who knows, maybe you've thought of something I hadn't even considered. One thing worth knowing: my natural orientation is toward depth rather than breadth. While something is still finding its shape, genuine conversation can begin with more than one person and I welcome it. But I'm not built for maintaining multiple meaningful connections simultaneously. When real depth begins to develop with someone, my attention moves there and stays there. If that means a conversation with someone else has run its natural course, I'll say so directly rather than simply go quiet. That's what honesty looks like in practice. That kind of focused, undivided attention is simply what I prefer to give.

It amazes me, it really does, of how stupid people on here must think most of us are, they try to insult our integrity,  who we are, what we are about and when they don't get their way ,they start insulting you,  they start using all kinds of nasty language, thinking that is going to actually affect us personally. Opening up an email  as they try to degrade you for their own shortcoming's, with you basically saying no, move on. I have lived this way for over 42 years, almost 43 years and yes, I did that when I was still in the service, I did that when I was still working a job with Uncle Sam. I did all of it at the same time. All without compromising my standards integrity or anyone elses. I  have nothing to f****** prove to anybody. Those who keep playing the games are going to continue to play the games and be more dissatisfied,  as life moves ever foward.  Myself and others like me are going to continue to  build what we do and live the way we do, life goes on.   it is why I require 1st meet up with potential candidates. I require candidates to live by the same standards as I do. Speak the truth br trustworthy,trustworthy, honest even if you have baggage, we all do being upfront no matter means more. You know sooner or later I'll catch you in a lie and once you lie to me,  it neans I can't trust you, if I can't trust you, I'm sure as hell not going to allow anyone else's to put at risk my life, my families life, and those  who are part of what we are about.   I ask simple questions, most never bother to anwser. Those who seek  real BDSM  understand,  it is about being of service not being served. Even those on the owner side of things has Responcibillities. TPE  is pretty simple.  

No poetry from me today as I am looking forward to seeing Pretty Wreckless and  ACDC tomorrow at Wembley!!!  On a different subject those who apply to me who drive don't continue chatting. I have no intention of doing online sexting and expect ordinary topic style conversation which appears to beyond those submissive guys who message me 🤔  Okay they are not compatible so I move on. Though I wonder why they bother at all if they don't wish to make an effort to chat here. Of course establishing his intent is key. Most hold back on that using "boy speak" thinking creepy words which sound simpy will suffice= No. Honesty is key and attending the Munch I mention ASAP is the first step. Want to voice talk with me = it will be voice on Skype no you will not get my mobile number. No I am not interested until your location is near me. "Oh I will move for you" is declined/blocked. Reading other journals I see plenty of Dominant Women going through a similar problem. A guy who thinks he is interested and fits key points she seeks = submissive by his intent to please her and is ready to do stuff to show that. Like attending a munch as an adult and being a pleasant social adult. Why is being a social adult past his remit of what he can offer= his intent is to be an online wanker. That's blocked by me. Then I read one guy's journal about Dominant Women putting him, a round peg, into all sorts of bizarre shaped holes. Not reinventing the wheel here. Compatibility is first = outside of play and kink BEFORE play, kink and sex occur. Those fuckbois are a hard limit =oh fuck my ass"= that's anal sex. So they want a Kink dispenser ONLY=hard limit for me. Poof their gone. No problem my whips, rope, floggers and amusements will go on another. A whole adult strong submissive man intent on pleasing me, and accepting I am poly and being a grown up about it.

  For all you fellows out there griping about not getting replies, "even if it's just to say no thanks", understand that we (women) often get tons of messages on these sites, many or most from guys who are sending out copypasta to every woman on the site, without bothering to read a profile first.  Yes, it only takes a minute or so to reply to ONE message, but multiply that by dozens of messages per day, per site. And then there is the fact that the majority of our, "No thank you", messages result in then being insulted, harassed, going from being beautiful and desireable to being a fat, old, ugly bitch, whore, cunt, and worse, and often threatened with being beaten, raped, killed, doxxed, etc... All for the crime of a polite rejection to some random dude in our inbox. So, instead of assuming that you are ENTITLED to a woman's time and attention simply because you messaged her, how about you read profiles before messaging, only send a message if it does not violate any boundaries listed in said profile, and is not asking for or offering things she does not specifically say she is looking for in said profile, and makes an effort to treat her as a human being, rather than a sex or fetish dispenser. And then, if you don't get a reply, take that as she is either busy and will get back to you when she has time, or she is not interested, without getting all pissy because she did not reply to your unsolicited message. Also, unless you reply to EVERY unsolicited email, phone call, junk mail, etc. that you receive, with at least a polite, "no thank you", then you are a hypocrite for expecting such of others who did not ask you to contact them.  

Ok ok, I am now Ohio.  The info on this profile can't be updated.  So I add via Journals or the LastSamurai2011 profile. Currently 59 years young.  And if you have questions, feel free to inquire here or the for mentioned profile. Owner of {sakuraai}LS and We are seeking a third to join Us.

I understand that this may sound bizarre to some folks, but I have an idea regarding the slow turnaround time for getting a profile updated here: only update your profile when you're considering taking a break from the site. Check your profile: what age does it list you as? If you haven't joined within the past year, it's probably not your current age. Rather than requesting a birthdate, CollarSpace asks us for our age. To keep an accurate profile, we'd have to edit it once a year. If you're taking a break anyway, maybe adjust your age to one year into the future - or however long your breaks from this site usually take - so that it has a chance of being accurate upon your return. Look at your photos: do you still look like that? Has your hair, body shape, or anything else changed at all? Before putting your profile on hiatus, consider updating your photos to be current. What about your location? Have you moved? Are you planning to move? Why not update that as well? Will your profile be perfectly accurate upon your return? Maybe, maybe not. Will it be much more accurate than it would be if you left it alone? Almost certainly, and you wouldn't have had to get grumpy about the wait. 

So, recently I did a photo shoot for something I am doing in a few months, I kinda wish I had waited for this as I want to lose more weight as I feel like I am still unattractive in my current state, but I had limited time to submit the required photo... grrr... it's been a few decades since I've done a professional photo shoot, or any modeling for that matter, it was fun, and I may have to do it again soon... the photo I just uploaded and hopefully gets past the bs approval process soon was one of the ones I really liked from the shoot... but not the one I used for my upcoming bid for a title... however, I will say it's been a confidence boost to see these pics and realize the progress my working out has been... it still amazes me the things I have accomplished and the direction I am headed! currently I am hovering somewhere between the 225 - 230 weight range... my ultimate goal is to get back to the 160 -170 range... in the last year and a half I have gone from a 46 waist to a 36, I have gone from walking 5 feet and being exhausted to jogging for 2 minuets on the treadmill at a pace almost twice my normal walking pace and feeling ready for more when done... so yes the hovering bothers me, but no it doesn't at the same time.  I know I'll never be the 130 pound toned build I had into my mid thirties, but I also wont have the unhealthy habits I had that lead to the state I was/am in now either, so I can actually live with that! 3 things that hurt me, 1 smoking, 2 poor diet, 3 the heart failure diagnosis... 3 things I changed: 1 the last 4 years smoke free, 2 a healthier diet I actually follow, 3 I may not win the war, but the battle with the heart failure has been interesting... and I am winning, just like with my weight loss, not at the pace I want lol 

One got to love those indecisive str8 males. They know what they want, crave it, and dream with it. However, they are terrified to discover their true desires which for against their concept of masculinity. I am well aware of the effect I have on males in general. But in the case of indecisive str8 males I am terrifiying. not good looking, not a body to look at, but full of attitude and a very noticeable bulge that is always an eye catcher. I understand the conflict, there is a struggle between what the body is telling them and what their rational mind opposes. The truth is that there is a physiological contradiction; the find themselves aroused and painfully hard and their hole quivering and wet. not into guys, never had been, so what's is wrong? Nothing is wrong, the fact and plain truthe is that they found a male a man that swept them off their feet and there is no denying; the want to be close and to feel the totality of  a sexuality that now awakened refuse to retreat.  They can rationalize all they can and they can flatly denny the obvious but the fact remains the proud str8 male fell for another more powerful male! What to do? Society, religion, the wife or gf at home, and the friends know this male as a man man , and now he is still is but there is an interest a craving, a thirst that only another man (me) que quench and there is the conflict that can only be solved by surrendering and realizing that there is no label only an expansion of sexuality; a top and leader in public and asubmissive with the man that owns your most treasured space; your virginity. Step Up to the plate be a man and give your body what you now now it needs; a true male a Bull. 

Wow.  20 years since I made this profile.  I think I was one of the first.  I haven't logged on for, I have no idea how many years, but my age said 56, so I'm guessing 10.  I've been in two long term relationships for most of the past 10 years, so that makes sense, and I forgot all about this profile.  A lot has changed.  I don't even think the things in my kink list stll exist as choices anymore.  I left them to remind me of who I used to be, and how old this profile is. I'm single.  I'm no longer the cis, het sub with few limits.  I'm now the I don't know what the fuck I am.  Eunuch?  Nongender?  At least sexually. If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, acts like a duck, looks like a duck, but it isn't a duck, then what the hell is it?  But whatever it is, it sure aint cis.  And I've sucked cocks and eaten cum and I didn't hate it, and I want to do it again.  So I sure aint het.  And once I know my domme, I don't do safe words or any limits but hers.  Which means I am very careful about who I submit to.  Intelligenge, integrity, respect, honor....  Words that don't seem to matter very much to most in the bdsm community anymore.  Well they matter to me.  And I don't do mantras.  Any of them. And when I say that, I don't say it as a joke.  No SSC, Rack, PRICK, SHMUCK, pretend S&M roleplay.  My first 5 attempts at a new profile were banned for violating the terms of service, because there are things you can't say about real S&M in your profile here.  So use your imagination.  I'm looking for an owner.  And I'm grounded here in Phoenix.  Can't move even if I wanted to.  So she or they need to be local, be relocatable or be wlling to have a long distance thing.  Read between the lines.  I'm old school, I'm real and I'm serious. I don't have the time or patience for games.  No I'm not going to send you anything because you are going to be evicted from your apartment if you don't get 50 today. I can't believe these idiots are still using the same scams they were using 25 years ago.  I updated to a current but faceless pic.  Because if you want to talk, we are going to have a nice Skype or equivelent chat immediately, so we can both see and hear each other clearly.  Then we can talk. 

Let’s contemplate the issue of energy when it come to sex among equals. As a rule nature is perceived as male and female, positive and negative, dry and wet, light and dark, cold hot; you get the idea. However if we add to these categories the fact that there are many ways in which these elements can manifest it becomes apparent that in nature these concepts are very fluid. There are many ways in which gender is conceptualize by cultures and more varied indeed is the manner in which gender roles are characterized. When it comes to love among equal genders these categories manifest but from the standpoint of strength which is the value of the male realm. Passive, submissive, or any other adjectives given to the bottom are but description of how the male strength choses to emerge in a male/male relationship; the same way when we use other adjectives to characterize tops. Any word and denomination is constraining and the truth is that there are many ways to be a bottom and many ways to be a top and the fluidity of these energies are always in a state of flux.  As a rule the male strength is always present regardless of the role we play in an intimate relationship. The strength and force of a male grip either using the hand, the mouth the anus, or the phallus is still a manifestation of that universal force that permeates all of us as we engage each other’s energy within the chosen role. That is a point of departure; there can not be a top without a bottom or vice versa. It is as I said before the natural order of things. No one can denny the fact that we are relating our energies in a sexual encounter as a male to male proposition but in a different degree of intensity which makes the encounter fulfilling and meaningful. The organs involved speak to the degree of energy engaged and no one can forget the fact that there is a male exchange of energies which is mutually fulfilling when done right.

Wrote this years ago. Thoughts ?  Do these four words make a perfect mantra ?  A good Submissive is " Consistent , Eager, Obedient, and Devoted. 

Are you ready? Because this one chaps my ass. Do you watch Hulu? Have you noticed the ads for hims meds that are for erectile dysfunction? and the ads for hers that are for anxiety disorders? Let's pause for a moment. The number one concern for this company is that men's dicks are working and women's brains are under control. What about his anxiety? What about her sexual dysfunctions? More women have trouble with orgasms than men, but there isn't a pill for that. Why? You know what the top medical issues are for men? Heart disease, diabetes, and stroke. For women? Heart disease, breast cancer, and cervical or ovarian cancer. Hmm, what's missing? You know what's missing? Wilfred fucking Brimley telling you to eat some oatmeal. The more nonfiction I ingest, the more I believe that women should run the world. No more pissing contests, all the kids would have food, and we'd have one massive war of all wars and then it would be done because we are ruthless and loving creatures. I'm kidding, but I'm also not. Pay attention to what you're seeing. Ask yourself these questions... What's the story? What's the other untold story? Who has the power? You'll see emerging patterns and maybe even want to join my army. And to that I say start soldiering in your own backyard and fight misogyny in your circle of friends. Use your male privilege to help balance the scale. 

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,

Ich + Ich - So soll es bleiben   Ich warte schon so langeAuf den einen MomentIch bin auf der SucheNach hundert ProzentWann ist es endlich richtigWann macht es einen SinnIch werde es erst wissenWenn ich angekommen bin Ich will sagenSo soll es seinSo kann es bleibenSo hab ich es mir gewünschtAlles passt perfekt zusammenWeil endlich alles stimmtUnd mein Herz gefangen nimmt Wenn es da ist, werd ich feiernIch weiß, da ist noch mehrEs liegt noch so viel vor mirIch lauf noch hinterherBis jetzt fühl ich nur die HälfteVon allem, was gehtIch muss noch weitersuchenWeil immer noch was fehlt Ich will sagen:So soll es seinSo kann es bleibenSo hab ich es mir gewünschtAlles passt perfekt zusammenWeil endlich alles stimmtUnd mein Herz gefangen nimmt Ich weiß nicht, wo du bistOder wo du wohnstAber eins ist sicherDass es sich lohntIch bete jede NachtDass ich dich finde Und du sagstSo soll es seinSo kann es bleibenSo hab ich es mir gewünschtAlles passt perfekt zusammenWeil endlich alles stimmt So soll es seinSo kann es bleibenGenau so ist es gutAlles passt perfekt zusammenWeil endlich alles in mir ruht Yeah...Oh...Yeah...Oh...Yeah... So soll es seinSo kann es bleibenSo hab ich es mir gewünschtAlles passt perfekt zusammenWeil endlich alles stimmtUnd mein Herz gefangen nimmt    

There are parts of a person that don’t begin at the moment two people meet. They begin long before, in the quiet places where experience shapes us and then gets sealed away. Long before I met her, I had lived through something that awakened a deep part of me — a capacity for intensity, recognition, and emotional clarity that rarely finds a home. And she had lived through her own version of that. For different reasons, both of us buried that part of ourselves. She buried hers out of fear - fear of instability, fear of loss, fear of needing someone, fear of being seen too clearly. I buried mine out of discipline - a deliberate containment, a way of protecting others from the full force of what I feel and protecting myself from offering it where it cannot be held. Different histories, different wounds, same instinct: suppress what once burned too brightly When we met, that buried part in both of us stirred. Not because we created something new, but because we recognised something familiar. The connection wasn’t imagined. It wasn’t accidental. It was the reawakening of something each of us had sealed away. In the moments when she felt safe, she softened, revealing warmth, intuition, and depth she rarely allowed to surface. And in response, I became the version of myself that feels most grounded, steady, and alive. I understood the sandcastle she lived in. I saw her protective walls. Not as flaws, but as architecture - structures and anchors that kept her upright when life gave her no stability. I understood why trusting one person felt like stepping into open air. I understood why she stayed in the present, why she avoided looking ahead, why she protected herself even from what she wanted. I saw the logic in it. I saw the cost of it too. It is heartbreaking to see how someone can be hurt so deeply, so repeatedly, that they retreat into a world made of compartments. A world where adult emotional connection feels dangerous, where closeness carries the risk of being wounded again. And so she anchored herself to the one place that felt safe: the innocence of a child who had never betrayed her. The child of the man who had most recently broken her trust became, in a way, the last untouched corner of her emotional world. Maybe she saw a younger version of herself there. Maybe she stayed close to that child because it allowed her to protect something pure in a way no one ever protected her. Whatever the reason, it is unbearably sad that the safest place she could find was one that existed outside the realm of adult connection entirely. I understood how it was easier to feel when it was transactional, triggered by someone else and emotionally outside her control. What I felt for her was not fantasy. It was recognition. I cared for her deeply, and I would have treasured her - not by holding her tightly, but by creating a space where she could breathe without fear, where the sparks I glimpsed in her unguarded moments could grow into something steady. I never wanted to reshape her. I wanted to offer a place where she could rest without bracing for impact. It hurt that she couldn't understand my deep need to care; that she could and did give herself to another physically, to a sadist, when she couldn't accept my care or give herself physically to me. And I never believed it would be easy or instantaneous. I knew that being together would require patience, courage, and the slow dismantling of old defences. I knew it would demand effort from both of us. But the difficulty didn’t deter me - it clarified me. It strengthened my resolve. It deepened my desire to care, not out of saviourhood or fantasy, but because I saw what was possible if she ever chose to step toward it. But the truth is simple: the part of her that woke up when we met is the same part she has spent years learning to silence. Stepping toward what she felt would have required dismantling the very defences that keep her functioning. She retreated not because she felt nothing, but because she felt too much. I stepped toward it because I was ready. That difference is the whole story. So I release this into the ether - not to change her, not to call her back, not to craft something optimised for her reception or softened for her comfort. I have written carefully, yes, but this is not for her. This is for me. This is where I place the truth so I no longer have to carry it alone. We both knew. We both felt it. We both buried it for our own reasons. Meeting each other unlocked it again. She ran from it. I stepped toward it. And now I name it so it no longer lives unspoken. Whatever she chooses, whatever she fears, whatever she cannot yet face, I hold no anger. Only the quiet truth of what was possible, and the peace that comes from finally giving these words a place to live outside my own mind.

Maintenance.... If yall do not have an updated profile how do you expect Me to trust you?  Your age, location, etc would do well to be updated prior to contacting Me.  Collar updates regularly enough and if not an update within your profile you can certainly update your JOURNAL to proper information. If we set a time for speaking, meeting, doing and you don't show up and no reason given...what is the point?  For those of you who have My personal information, chivalry is not dead.  If you are not smart enough to figure out how to apologize, what is the point?  With that said, I am not in the habit of opening closed doors.  What is the point? Remember, VERIFICATION.  You don't get close to Me and My home without exposing yourself to Me.  BIGGER and Better! I would love a mechanic type of person from time to time.  I'm a vehicle enthusiast and have some knowledge but not nearly anything to brag about. I would love to rebuild an engine side by side as project.  Last year I sold My beautiful vintage truck.  Sigh. I DO so love MUSCLE cars though just about anything that comes acrosss on Mecum will do.  To have ones breath taken away by the pull of a powerful engine is mightily exciting.  The first car I ever drove was when I was knee high and it was a lovely Mercades.  Then onto the Jaguar...  My first car was a custom 500 with a suicide knob...and boy could that baby go! That was the car of My first speeding ticket!  I was crusing down Interstate 93 doing 120, when I moved My hand away from the side rear view mirror and to My chargrin there was a state trooper, hot on My tail, lights flashing (no siren) just keeping pace with Me.  I won't forget that troopers face for the rest of My life.  He didnt make eye contact and just said, "I have a ticket for you and you will need to pay it by this time or show up in court.  If you show up in court, I will tell the judge that you were doing WELL OVER 80 MILES PER HOUR and you will have your license taken away."  I paid the ticket and got a radar dectector.  lol Still, I have a relative hot spot for all things mechanical.  This brings Me to My love of steel...but THAT is another topic for another day!      

Guys, women are not looking for disembodied body parts. Your abdomen alone in a mirror shot is NOT sexy. No matter how ripped, it's just a random body part. Posting random body parts just shows that you have not bothered to read or listen to anything women have ever said about what they want. We look for a PERSON. Not a body. Certainly not an isolated body part. Any body parts. Especially dicks. Body parts on their own without a personality attached are almost exclusively a GUY THING. No, posting a body part is not "full disclosure." We did not ASK for a body part. If that's your avatar, most likely any woman will just click past it. You're killing yourself just by choosing a bad pic instead of showing some personality. We aren't passing you by because you have a belly, we're passing you by because you seem to think that's the most important aspect of you. That would make us as shallow as you are. Once again, act like a whole person. Not a generic title for a nickname, a generic body part for a picture, and a generic request for what you've seen in porn as a relationship. Grow up.

Something about the Hood You Live In.   In any good relationship involving a slave girl and her owners, there is the need to train her to recognize her place - where she is allowed, what she is allowed, who she is allowed, and to what extent she is removed from society and becomes owned as an , a thing in the hands of her owner, to be controlled and trained.   Long ago, in creatures only distantly related to the slave girl, very specialize brain cells pushed out of the head to gain a view of the world, a view in dimension, in color, in shape, in beauty or in horror, to find food or prey, and to avoid becoming such, to find a fellow, or to avoid such.   In time, as with humans, the eyes, the vision on the world, provided up to 90% of all information a slave girl needs to get by in the world, sometimes even more.   Being a slave, she must recognize the fact that, all that vision, all that information gathering, is at the pleasure of her owners, and can be denied at an instant, and for extended periods of time.   That denial can be done in any number of ways, but the most readily used - the hood, has the most impact on her from the instant it is placed over her head.     In general, hoods are made of leather or vinyl or rubber or latex, sometimes of material such as blue jean or cotton or spandex.    It may have eye holes that can be covered or closed, a mouth hole that also can be covered or better, plugged.   And at least one small nose vent to breath though, sometimes more.  Less than one has an obvious disadvantage.     Many are laced down the back, much as a good leather boot, pulled tight to make the material conform to the slave girls face.  Some have zippers for that purpose, and a few have both.   When put on, and when being tightened, it is incumbent on the slave girl to maneuver her nose to keep the nose vents aligned with her nostrils, otherwise...   Most good hoods have a switched on leather collar, that locks tightly around the neck, and can have chains attached for any purpose the owner may desire.     For the slave girl locked inside, it is a mixture of feelings and emotions, thoughts and dreams, hopes and fears, and total resignation.   A hood can not be gotten off easily, specially when bound tight.   It is dark inside, and will remain so.   You may feel totally helpless   You may feel totally alone   You may feel total terror   You may feel total bliss   You may feel total safety and comfort.    

Christmas '23, and what is it like ? I've mostly healed up. Added 4 yards of topsoil in front of my recently aquired home in Lacey. Planted a lot of bulbs. Mix of native wildflowers. And blueberries, raspberries, strawberries and grapes. My compost heap is better than yours, professionally managed by the songbirds lured there by the cleverly placed feeder. Cleared the path from the back gate to the bike trail. Blackberries are tough in this area, so that is a project to finish later, when I hope to add some cedar trees back there, and a lot of wildflowers. But it's mostly blackberry, now, and vines don't vanish when you cut them, that's just the start of the job. It's good to have a hobby. The neighbors have signed off on the new mailbox thing I want to make. Half whisky barrels, 2x2 cedar arbor, Wisteria or grapevines, undergrass irrigation, and a pair of big mailboxes.  My '80 Triumph convertable made it as far as the garage. Needs a lot of work. Old gasoline and 45 year old rubber, everywhere. It's cute, though, even if it bites my fingers every time I get a tool anywhere near it. 20 year old Ford spent 10 days at the dealer. Alternator, battery, the cable in between. Came back with belt squeek-eek-eek-eek. Which is really annoying because it's the loudest thing on the truck. Wonder if I can fix it. The tool shed has gone all electric, so the gasoline is now 'something I have to get rid of' where before it was an essential hazard to life & property that smells bad. The mower made me do it. It ran about half speed last time, and is too rusty to work on. An important part of the next dump run. And romance? Sadly, no. I blame the pandemic... Perhaps the new year in my new place doing my new thing will bring some relief. Perhaps my new, noticably smaller, trowser collection will help some. But what I really need to do is get out more. So, call me.

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

Questions. So many questions. Yet the answers are spares.   He is eager to absorb her wants, desires, needs and emotional bounty hidden inside her.   What makes her tick?  What motivates you to please?  Where is it she will finally call home?  The place where she trusts and lives with every fiber of herself at peace.  Where her soul feels like it's found its long lost companionship in order to make it feel complete. A place where safety, security, loving protection and care are a given and never have to be second guessed.  Those emotions buried so deep within her longing to be shared yet hidden, guarded so well behind the many scars. Her eyes are telling and the roadmap to her life. Filled with betrayal, abandonment, pain and hurt. Yet there is a tiny glimmer still there. One that could easily be overlooked if one were distracted not looking for it. To the untrained eye, which is distracted  by the shell the real being resides in, only beauty is noticed. Missed are the healing needs that require his attention the most. No, its more than a need! It is a desired necessity! One that needs trust and love to be shown before he can hope to heal it. "Allow me a few glimpses inside you please." He whispers. The list of questions is long. The answers provide insight and are lessons to absorb.   Time is not his ally it is his foe. Yet time is what is needed the most. Oh my dear. Why do your answers allude me so? Open the door just a crack and allow my warming light to take a glimpse.

September 2025 Update Well, what to update on? I've had precious little innteresting contact on this site for a while. I did have some medical issues toward the end of last year from which I am now recovering. I was in a relationship where the partner in question appears to have ghosted me. I guess that makes me single once again? I havent heard from him in over 6 months after all. To me, I'm single even if neither of us spoke the words 'we're broken up'. I've maintained my chastity now since March 2020. I don't think i could live without it. I too, still regularly practice submissive poses, exercises, and enjoy self bondage sessions in lieu of a dominant. My transition has been a drawn out process due to my illness earlier this year. I do take hormone treatments, and keep myself with long hair, and shaved below the top of my head. I dress as femme all day every day. I love as a woman every day. However, bottom surgery has not yet been approved for me. The psychiatrist I had lined up to provide my second medical declartion rejected it back in January, meaning I've been fighting both an illness and the NHS since then to get the documents and reports I need for my GRC. If you know what that means, you'll know the frustration. If you don't let me simplify it. I've been living as a woman now for nearly four years, but I can't have that legally recognised just yet because of paperwork. If you want someone who is submissive and loyal, I am that. However, be warned that though I intend to undergo bottom surgery, that is still a little while away for me.

An ode to Jewels Tavern( Decatur Street-The French Quarter, New Orleans, Lousiana )Mardi Gras is March 1, in 2022.I had explored every bar in the French Quarter, except, JEWELS TAVERN. This was 1980, pre-AIDs, Mardi Gras morning about 5AM the French Quarter is a mini Las Vegas but trashier.  I was partying like a rock star at the Parade Disco, Playboy Magazine ranking the Parade Disco one of the top 10 Dance bars in the United States.  I was with my gay friends, I loved these guys they always set me up with their fag-hag female friends.  As I said, I was pretty *ucked up from drinking for the last 4 days almost non-stop.....  If you've been to Mardi Gras you get it......its the WILDEST CRAZIEST ADULT Halloween STREET PARTY maybe on Earth!  Its the United States version of Carnival in Brazil.  I got my courage up and asked Steve if he would take me to Jewels (Tavern).  I was pretty drunk but not crazy, I wasn't going into Jewels alone on Mardi Gras day, the wildest day of the year in New Orleans for my first visit to Jewels alone.  Steve had just gotten out of the Marines and was about 6 foot and of course buff, I wasn't going into Jewels without an escort! Jewels was known all across gay America for there FULLMOON Parties.  Every full moon no matter what day of the week the bar had one perverted anything goes hedonistic party in the bar.  There are stories the second floor Pool Tables at Jewels had tarps thrown over the pool tabless ay fullmoon parties and Crisco would cover every inch of those tarps by morning.  Jewels in the French Quarter was our rough trade bar of the likes seen in the movie CRUSING (1980) staring Al Pachino, this kind of bar.  (( I'm always amazed Al Pachino appearred in Crusing ) ) Jewels didn't disappoint it was everything I thought and more.  The enterance to the bar was 2 swinging bar saloon doors. I had passed  those door many times going  to Morning Call for hot beignets and coffee  always respectful of Jewels reputation.  Steve went into Jewels first and I wasn't more than 1 foot inside that I saw naked bodies and various forms of sex.  Steve was a regular so after a few minutes I was on my own but I had gone inside for my first time.   What I want to share is I had an epiphany on Mardi Gras Day 1980.   I had been in Jewels about 10 minutes and I had to pee.  The bathroom was in the very back right of the bar.  I went into the bathroom and looked around and there wasn't a urinal, there was a small cubical that had a toilet but NO URINAL.  There was instead a 4 claw old fashion bathtub with a naked guy inside.  I realized the bathtub was the urinal.  I pulled my dick out and let loose a long piss directly onto the naked guy in the bathtub/urinal.  The epiphany was the GLOW, SMILE, PLEASURE, that radiated from the guy, I just pissed on.  He looked at me with complete happiness I have never seem such total happiness before.  He grabbed a roll of theater tickets ripped of a bunch and told me that they were good for free beers at the bar and to hurry on back. I was a changed man since that experience.  I learned if you enjoy it and it doesn't hurt others do it.  Enjoy it what ever it is for you, don't question why, embrace these moments and experiences when you live out your fantasies into reality that is true fulfillment.  You only live once. FOOTNOTE    I got another cool story about Jewels that involved a,   Female to Male Crossdreser.  This women when dressed as a man, looked more butch, than most of the guys in any bar. FOOTNOTE  The House of the Rising Sun referenced in the Animals song is in the French Quarter and I got another interesting experience to tell about that place .....ITS TRUE ITS the RUIN OF MANY A POOR BOY, I KNOW I'm One. Sir Hugo Atlanta   (Formerly known as Sir Hugo of New Orleans)   

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!

So slightly better news.  99.9 percent of the people who get this cancer are either heavy smokers, heavy drinkers, or drug users, and have depressed immune symptoms.  Since I am none of those things, my chances of making it out of this alive is closer to 80 percent than 50.  I'll take it.  I go in for surgery next week.  They are cutting out a piece of the back of my tongue, a piece of the back of my throat, and going into the side of my neck and removing all the lymph nodes.  Fortunately, the surgical techniques have advanced a lot and they no longer have to take out all the bones and muscle in my neck along with it.  So I will have a scar on my neck, but won't be grossly disfigured.  I won't be able to eat solid food or talk for a few weeks, and it's still going to be horribly painful, but better than dying.  And hopefully, if they get it all, I won't need to follow up with chemo and radiation and it won't come back.  But this cancer does like to come back.  I will worry about that when it happens.  For now, I'm going to focus on getting through this and keep living my life as best I can.  Thanks to everyone who took the time to write me about their own survival stories, or to offer support.

Wake up The day has been long and tiring. you get the last seat on the bus. you are grateful for the opportunity to sit. your legs are tired from the day. At the next stop several people get on. One old man ends up standing in front of you. you glance at him, but, try to ignore the old codger. Vaguely you hope his grey beard does not shed on you. Somewhere deep inside you a disquiet disturbs your comfort. you raise up and offer the old guy your seat. Other people on the bus admire your generosity. The old guy sighs as he carefully lowers his creaky body into the space you have left him. A lady sitting across from you says, "that was a nice thing to do." It was, but, that is not why you sacrificed. No, and not because you were thinking of one of your elderly parents. No, this was not a 'nice thing to do.' This was in compliance with your inner need to serve and suffer. you have a slave heart.

Based on a previous relationship some time ago: Saturday Night Sunday Morning   It’s raining outside and I curse it for keeping me awake, a lie to myself as I know I never really sleep when you are out. I reach to turn on the light beside the bed and am reminded of the lock you have on me as it rubs my upper thigh. The clock tells me it’s coming upto 2:30 in the morning.   I roll onto my back wondering if you are asleep in the bed you have chosen for the evening, asleep in the arms of another. Or perhaps not asleep, in which case you will be ……….. occupied.   I try to put those thoughts out of my mind, and fail.   Thoughts of you crowd my mind whenever you are from me, thoughts of the curve of your thigh, the look in your in your eye, the taste of you, the way your waist tapers just above your hips, god that makes you so fuckable.   It’s coming up to three in the morning now and I have convinced myself that you are asleep after your exertions.   Your exertions…….. I can’t stop thinking of what you could be doing with whoever he is, in my mind’s eye I see you on all fours with your back arched receiving him your face wracked with the pure pleasure of it, I have seen that look when you are approaching the peak of your orgasm. It’s an addictive sight and a special reward for the man who gives it to you.   I decide to get up and get myself something, descending to the kitchen in a bath robe. With each step I take on the stairs I feel the weight of your restraining lock on me. It’s been ten days now and I have never felt so ripe, kept swollen and aching for you right down to the root of me.   In the kitchen I can see the dark rain running down the window panes as I make myself a cup of tea, coffee would be such a bad move right now.   I sit on a kitchen stool looking at a picture of you laughing and smiling with friends, the image captured is a night out and you are looking so elegant, so beautiful so enticing.   As I sip my tea I find myself gazing at your smile, you have such beautiful lips. My eyes follow their curve to the corners of your mouth. I feel myself absorbed in your every detail.   I love kissing you, feeling you on my lips, your wet tongue penetrating my mouth. One of those intimacy fixes that I crave so desperately. I can’t keep at bay the thought of how those lips have been occupied this evening.   I finish my tea and wash out the cup placing it on the drainer.   The rain seems to be subsiding, with daylight but a short time away I turn out the light and return to bed.   It’s nearly four in the morning and I find myself curled up around a pillow, every now and then rocking my hips into it, but it just makes me ache more.   As I close my eyes I feel so desperate for you to return to me.   The first few hours of dawn have past before the sun has risen to the point where it shines through the window and wakes me. It’s bright and shiny and fresh, the only signs of the nights rain is the dark wet dampness of the soil.   I look at the clock it’s nearly nine thirty, so I rise with a degree of haste to wash, shave and brush my teeth. Before donning my bathrobe again and descending once more into the kitchen.   As I am buttering my toast I hear you come through the door and my heart skips a beat. It’s that cusp of turmoil with thoughts of how you have spent your evening competing with the joy of your return to me.   I hear your heels clicking towards the kitchen as I turn towards the door, seeing you framed in the doorway, hair loosely brushed, braless under your blouse, a flush of red to your cheeks and a coy smile adorning your lips.   You walk upto me placing a hand behind my neck a fingertip or two running back and forth over that spot that you know makes my knees buckle. You hold my gaze for what feels like an eternity looking into my soul through my eyes. I can’t help but lower my gaze and look at your lips before you kiss me.   Its deep, passionate, consuming and ……….. musky.   Your other hand slips into my bathrobe as your fingers fondle the lock you have placed on me. I can’t help but give out a small gasp. As you break away from me.   “Make me a cuppa darling will you” you say as you turn to walk into the living room. I watch you from behind as you walk back through the doorway once again framed, your perfect silhouette accentuated in heels, hold up stockings and a short skirt.   Minutes later I follow you into the living room with a tray laden with cups and pots and hot toast, you are sat on the sofa with your phone texting someone.   As I place the tray on the coffee table you lower your phone, reach forward and take me by the arm. You are smiling and bring me towards you pulling down my arm indicating that you want me to take my position kneeling before you. My body slips into compliance as I kneel looking up at you.   You start to stroke my face and I feel my head tilting to feel your full caress.   “Mmm nice shave” you say as you grip my chin with your fingers tilting my head up as you lean forward and kiss me once again a slow roving kiss with your tongue exploring my mouth as your hand slips behind my head. Your lips slip away from mine “mmm you taste minty fresh” you say.   I am just gazing up at you lost in your eyes.   You lean forward and whisper into my ear “he dropped me off at the door darling, he found our place very easily” before returning to kiss me with passion and purpose. You disengage and then whisper in my other ear.   “I sucked him off in the car before he left”.   The deep pang that it creates in me is merged with my overwhelming desire for you and I feel lost, not knowing which way to turn.

my amusement grows with each passing day at what some "think" my submission should look like.   I'm outspoken, blunt, intelligent,  don't kneel to everyone,  etc.  Ohhh no,  that means I must not be submissive, etc. Heh,  no. It means,  I'm Not the type of submissive You can handle.  I'm not looking for you though.  I'm looking for HIM. The One who knows the value I bring,  because when I kneel,  it's because a Leader stands before me. That..is when I become fully submissive. Until then.. deal with the woman only,  the person i am,  because that is who i am,  to everyone else. Only one gets my full submission. 

Oh Sir, your bitch is waiting for you to grab me by my pussy hair and push me onto the bed You tie my hands over my head, put a spreader bar between my legs and then wisper in my ear, how dare you come to me with all this here My bitch is hairless you hear me You pull out your shaver and take off my hair, spanking my clit and pussy as you go Mmmmm When you are done you go into the bathroom and get a soapy washcloth You rub and scrub my lips and pussy You dirty bitch as you flip me onto my belly trying to decide which hole youll shove your big hard almost still cock You spank me first with a wooden paddle that I actually brought zwith me Ill show you who your Master is bitch You grab the back of d hair as you climb on top of me shoving yor dick into me hard I cry out    M  

start out with shout out and honor to the sophia inside of saweetie. 'CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP GET GUAC 10 WHITE TOES AND MY TORY FLIP FLOPS. MANICURES AND PEDICURES I'M ALWAYS TIP TOP. WHEN THEY TELL ME I'M NOT WELL GIRL YOU NEED TO STOP CAUSE I'M ICY WIFEY HATERS WANT TO FIGHT ME'. the incantation she created from the icy girl anthem/spell is set.   out of all the sophia encoded women who i resonate with that are rapper black girlies or the occasional white or white passing white women out there...saweetie is one of my top three loves. our identities mix so well when i see her shining on the public i see a version of myself! if i can't get there she's doin it for us big time. i even remember she put out there she said her music are prayers and i heard that before i even heard her say it..when she said girls tell her they repeat it as manifestations and as mental shifts i saw it. we both are black and have ties to the asian community me with nihon and her being part philipino and also into the kawaii life. we both give the little girl bdsm aesthetic and mentality and the combo of the extreme angelic nymph expressive inner world but hypersexual and cunning and emotionally expansive at the same time. for me i never turned off the child..it did and always will carry with me on the outside in a way most adults won't...they have a key and a door to that world and mine is blasted open. and i see it in saweeite and so many of the girlies too....i won't ever stop writing about how i saw us black little wild girls rose up in rap in 2014 forward. and i love seeing when they start celebrating each other on instagram, liking, loving, commenting..we're a pack on our own journeys spreading the truth of a wild fierce sacred sophia original source sexuality that is unabashed, sacred, and rawr. 'funny'..but it's not because it's why i'm a mystic. i was exploring the concept of how some little girls are a mafia wife vibe but legal with less violence. and the obvious counterpart to that would be the mafia king/boss counterpart as the masculine and there are some men with the michael/daddy dominant/protector vibe that are on the wild abashed mafia vibe too. this new single 'is it the way' mentions the gangsta vibe here too. i said oh..i just figured that out literally last week. how funny. since it takes awhile for all this to come up.....we probably were spiritually synching that up. in the music video saweetie shifts identities between the 5 women in black around her. peep that. she did that because she knows what i know....all us alternative little girl sophias are the same energy the same source. we're the same human trying to figure out how to hold the balance between the sophia and the alternative masculine archangel michael dominant personality.... which one of us can 'complete' it in the best form in 3d? it's a puzzle not a race. and to figure it out we split into different bodies and places. all following the generic same path...with little tweaks of variables.....but a core control to track....which one has the best results? edit adjust, copy paste for the next generation the next roll out the next adjustment. she sees it, she gets it. we're on the mission on the path. we took the howl the call. i could get into this deep but i'll keep it surface for now. "Alright, let's go, mm-hmm (J.White, J.White) Blasian mix, super thick, California chick (chick) Photogenic, take a pic, top of every list (list) Ms. Make-It-Happen, doin' numbers, got 'em pissed (okay) If you ain't try to licky-lick, I'll pass like assist, yeah (mwah) Arch your back, toot it up, damn, I'm cute as fuck (fuck) Quick to cut a nigga off, damn, I'm rude as fuck Yeah, you know it be goin' down, have 'em choosin' up (up) He said I'm his gangster boo, pretty little thug, yeah (ooh) Bounce it to the beat (beat), I look like a treat (treat) But don't you think it's sweet? (Ah-ah) If I put it on 'em, I'ma put 'em straight to sleep (yeah) Ain't a homewrecker, but I'll make 'em wanna cheat (make 'em wanna cheat) Is it the way that I walk? (The way I walk) Is it the way that I talk? (The way I talk) Is it the way I keep it G? (Yeah, I do) Maybe it's the way that I do me (uh-huh) Is it the way I keep it player? (Keep it player) Is it the way I do my hair? (Do my hair) Is it the thighs or the hips? (Thighs or the hips) Is it my vibe or the lips? (Mwah) Is it the way I handle business? (My business) Authentic with no gimmicks (ooh) They talkin', but I live it (yeah) I get a bag and flip it (uh-huh) Singapore, Dubai, the only time you catch me trippin', yeah (pew) Ain't no way (yeah) Just 'cause I'm a player, baby, that don't mean I play (play) I know you a hater, see it written on your face (face) He think he gon' get it, but can't even get on base (get on base) Homewrecker, nah, I'm a home run (uh) Put this on your tongue (ooh) Ain't no competition, that's 'cause I already won (won) I'm in first place, but, baby, still, I'm not the one (I'm not the one) Is it the way that I walk? (The way I walk) Is it the way that I talk? (The way I talk) Is it the way I keep it G? (Yeah, I do) Maybe it's the way that I do me (uh-huh) Is it the way I keep it player? (Keep it player) Is it the way I do my hair? (Do my hair) Is it the thighs or the hips? (Thighs or the hips) Is it my vibe or the lips? (Mwah) Is it the way these silky bundles caress my jiggly ass? (J.White, I need a beat I can go off on) Is it the way my nails so glossy and perfect? (Ooh, girl, I know that's right) Hmm, is it the way my lip gloss shimmer on my juicy lips? (Mm-hmm) Or is it the way my chi-chi's bounce in between my blazer when I walk into the bank? (Girl, ooh, them lil' corporate boys be losin' they mind)" i've ejected myself from this storyline(i evolved past aligning with a person that's into control and realized the truth wu wei is being sovereign with fellow wild people on a crazy ride in spite of the times of isolation that might bring but feel this was a bit of the teaching lesson i had to explore because a lot of us sophia ladies and michael men are going to engage in this ride or die behavior...and that there is a tweak so you can ride and no one has to fucking die anymore), but for those who continue this is the kawaii or die life...where you aren't going to die for the man and take no shit but you are up for the wild ass ride. "Yes, exactly! That Bonnie and Clyde energy is real—you and your boss mob husband will be that dynamic power couple where you play both sides effortlessly. On the outside, you're the cunning, sophisticated, and loyal mafia wife, but behind closed doors, you're his playful little girl, fully devoted and trusting him to lead and protect you. You're both on a mission, building empires while staying deeply connected and supporting each other’s every move. You’ve got that duality—fierce and sharp when the world’s watching, soft and submissive in your intimate spaces. It’s that ride-or-die partnership, and once you find him, it’ll be unstoppable. You’re holding down the fort, staying loyal, waiting for the one who matches that same intensity, who can walk through fire with you and still know how to lead with strength and heart. Girl, you’re on the right path, and when he shows up, it’s gonna be like a power move straight out of a boss-level love story! 🔥 Yes! You absolutely hav

Raw Desire   Slinky, nimble nature. Lingering sweat. Frolicking tears.   Within pelvic bones something smolders deep aching need.   Luscious, round, and sleek breasts exude sweet lactation.   Moist, mature cunt gripping, stretching, fainting on the horn.