MstrB writing from midtown been looking for one decent slave for some time now it will be well trained for a variety of domestic services and hopefully for the slaves sake it is able to learn from its corrections …even better if it already knows exactly what it’s good for!  ...all its further educating will be done with a strap kept very close by.... it will be made to understand it has no rights no privileges no freedom to come or to go without asking for and receiving  express permission  so much in life is correctly forbidden to a slave  and it must be reminded of this consistently if not constantly slave has no secrets no privacy or much time alone and certainly no participation or place in any considerations or discussions about things going to be done with the slave in fact it has no say in much of anything slaves Owner will have full authority over the slave and its affairs and will use that authority very strictly I am understanding of slaves condition I am sympathertic to its plight and always give a slave what it needs but allow very little of what it wants this is both an Owners prerogative over the slave as well as an extension of a kind of parental authority therefore no disrespect or disobedience will be permitted ...ever! MrB   ------------------------------------------------------------------------       I use…and enjoy very much using… real discipline- isolation- humiliation-lots of busy work in the home...all to train a female to a level of acceptable domesticity…sort of housebreaking the slave…teaching both the need for her focused Obedience and the necessity to perform with humility and accuracy whatever is demanded from her chores chores chores…so much to be done….so many things to attend to... upon collaring slaves pussy will be immediately closed for business as her chastity must be clearly established for the oversexed sluts own good...she will have no orgasms until permitted ..her hands fingers etc will be kept from her vaginal area except for purposes of good hygiene and then only under direct supervision...
 rule of thumb...a slave will be fully given what she needs and very very little of what she wants. so I am here seeking full Ownership of such a woman and she would do well to have a real slave personality....certain qualities will be emphasized in her training as more wanted than others...humility for instance...a highly prized quality that can't be stressed enough and that is wholly attractive to see when presented with sincerity …she will be shown how to provide service as the Obedient intelligent servant she was born to be… she will complement my life and basically make things easier for me in whatever way she is called on…as a relationship develops between Owner and slave she will come to appreciate more and more the kinds of support and guidance given to her... she will learn to approach her Owner with nothing less than demonstrable Respect under all circumstances… her training in how to properly submit herself will never really end so her attention will be directed to intellectual things I will insist she consider and think about...adult slave lessons on a cerebral level… she will be stripped, anally plugged and put into a submissive position on her knees or perhaps ordered to freeze on her tiptoes... she will then be closely questioned about these things…her answers are required and truly valued… she must be responsive and forthcoming to all questions about her feelings her moods and her progress in becoming more servile and useful..the point being to make her a better servant and a more responsive slave....these interrogations and her confessions of her feelings will be a ritual she will learn to anticipate and expect …the reasons for them are simple..I want her to be fully aware of her condition in this lifestyle and in my life most of all…she belongs to me as my property and she is subject to my discipline my control my desires and decisions for her… I want her to learn to accept and in the end embrace the benefits she enjoys thanks to me because I do what I think is best for her… I will do whatever needs to be done to turn this woman into the best slave she can possibly be …I am a sexual sadist all my life and knew this when I was about eight or nine though I had no idea of the implications…
I use many forms of personality and behavioral techniques.. real discipline, humiliation, isolation, very tight bondage, sensory dep... whatever I find has the greatest effect on her emotions.. I will happily enforce her Obedience until she learns to respectfully offer it...one way or another I will get what I want from her…she will be trained to domestic service of various kinds...she will be watched closely and fairly judged on how well she performs these tasks and she will be unfailingly punished when she fails to do them as instructed...her good service is a pure reflection of her Respect for her Owner and her place in his life... her Obedience is the essence of her slave self....to be useful in all ways and show that she knows her place at all times is one of her many goals as the slave she is.... and her training will center heavily on perfecting her attitude as she is carrying out the tasks given her ...no matter what the work or activity is, it must be performed with a pleasing attitude...with humility... and if not?...
so many reasons a woman offers to give her a memorable correction…as though a reason were even needed.  I am open for discussion of all issues which will come up and need to be addressed to keep things balanced and harmonious between Owner and slave…she will be safe and protected from as much of the outside world as she wants to not have to deal with... I welcome the amazing emotional connections that come from a successful M/s relationship and take full responsibility for what I do !... not everything can be solved with a strap but for a true slave? nothing else will do……McB  

These things fill my submissive dreams:My partner wants to lead a relationship based on a happy friendship and sharing positive feelings.My partner enjoys using chastity to satisfy her need to possess her lover. She enjoys being center of attention when she wears clothes that men cannot ignore, especially me. She wants a partner who submits to her excitement for taking control physically using locks and keys.She would like to use her man's sexual energy to teach him to obey her. She want license to be persuasive on her terms.She is willing to take time to acknowledge my service with little erotic rewards even when she is tired. Words are enough.She is interested in putting mutual health activities into our shared routines of life for which we are both responsible.I'd be happy to do yoga, massage and connective breathing as our most frequent intimate activities.I enjoy being appreciated for my sexual arousal as a compliment to you at the same time I enjoy being denied sex as sincere submission to you.I'd like to demonstrate my experience with turning arousal in chastity into the intense desire to make you happy in non-sexual ways.I feel loved when locked in chastity but still want to make love when you decide to take it off. Please lock it up when you are done.I want to believe that you require chastity to prevent masturbation so that I stay fully erect when you want me to be.I am enchanted to believe you like chastity because it prevents anyone else from tempting me, that you now own me without question.The chastity does not need to eliminate having sex, but to control when. A woman who blocks male masturbation is never lonely. It is an easy way to encourage a man to give more hugs and better kisses if he is thinking about sex but cannot touch himself anymore.

Bridget Choses Enslavement   Bridget’s emotions were running wild.  The ride up to Master’s gave her ample time to reflect on this special occasion.  Bridget was to be enslaved today.  Master had often told her that all women secretly wanted to be possessed and owned by a dominant master.  Collared.  Be an enslaved slut.  Bridget had embraced her inner slave and wanted the delicious certainty of being a strong Master’s owned property.  What a glorious feeling to have no need to carry on with the soul killing charade of denying her sexuality, her submission, her needs and desires. Bridget was so sure.  She couldn’t wait for their special ritual.  The ritual was ordered by her Master but she had made adjustments and additions that had delighted Master.  She knew Master treasured her and all of her. He often remarked on her intelligence and how it drove her kink and also drove his passion to be her owner.  Master always said women with a desire for the collar, for enslavement were usually the very intelligent ones.   Before she left home Bridget paid attention in the shower.  Her shaving was meticulous. Her legs, arms, and pussy were smooth as possible. She thrilled at the thought of the way Master would cup her smooth, oiled pussy and run his hand back and forth as she squirmed and moaned. She knew Master loved to lick and kiss her clit.  He also like to use his Hitachi and a soft makeup brush on her.  He’d alternate the vibrator and brush on her clit.  Sometimes he’d just stop and listen to her breathing.  Bridget loved it when he chained her wrists and ankles in his bed and made her come over and over until she screamed.  He’d gag and blindfold her and make her come some more. Master had learned early in their play to put a towel under her.  The wet spot was something to see. Bridget’s enslavement ritual outfit was all white and had been her idea.  Master had suggested adding long white gloves and she agreed with relish.  Once out of the shower, at Master’s direction, she installed two Ben Wa balls in her pussy.  They went in nicely.  When she walked around she could feel them as she moved.  She wondered if walking in heels would accentuate the sensation.  Oh well, she’d find out soon.  Bridget loved Master’s toy collection.  He had a veritable fleet of vibrators including a very useful remote controlled beauty.  Master said he was shopping for an internet controlled vibrator for some long distance fun.  He also had a selection of nipple clamps, some fun and some she feared.  There was a lot more and she was sure the list was growing After carefully pulling on her white stockings and attaching them to her sexy garter she slipped on her skimpy white panties.  A curvy white push up bra completed her underwear.  She had a nice white blouse with a plunging neckline that accentuated her cleavage. Her brief white skirt would expose her slim legs and white stockings.  Finally she slipped on her white high heels with thosecute sexy little ankle straps.  Naturally she added accessories like a string of pearls and a bright red lipstick.  She decided she’d add her fragrance and put on the white gloves when she arrived at Masters. The miles rolled by.  Her heart sang.  She had made her decision.  It felt so right.  All the things she wanted to experience would be hers in a safe and protected place.  Master would help to explore all the dark kinky places she dreamed about.   The highway intersection appeared on her GPS. She had to turn north.   It was time to call Master.  She heard the phone ring.  Her emotions ping ponged.  Master answered with a pleased voice.  She was close.  He could almost sense her.  They both reveled in the joy of anticipation.     Master remarked that he was looking forward to draping her with his new 1/8” stainless steel chain.  Perhaps chaining her breasts with a nice halter.  When he mentioned that he’d like to chain her in Sirik Bridget’s was incredibly turned on.  The thought of the chain running from her collar to the chained wrist manacles and finally ending on the ankle manacles.  Sirik chain bondage allowed movement but served to remind her that she was owned, protected property.  Master loved everything Gorean and spent a lot of time finding ways to practically adapt the mores of Gor to earth.  A significant Gorean notion is that bondage enhances a woman’s beauty.  Bridget agreed but also concluded bondage made her horny as hell. The rural setting, the trees, the quiet appealed to her.  Here’s the driveway.  Turning right and pulling up the long driveway she found herself next to Master’s car and she knew, the beginning of her life changing event was close at hand.  She put her car in park and applied the parkingbreak.  She felt that she also applied a break on her normal, vanilla life.  She would enter the BDSM Sea.  Enter it as one of the more exotic and nuanced denizens.  She would be a slave girl, specifically a Kajira, a Gorean slave.  Bridget and Master had discussed many aspects of enslavement, slave protocols, sexual ownership, and what they each wanted.  She agreed with Master that after all, it was at its heart, an exotic adult game.  They both knew few could play the game, few could accept their role, and few could adhere to the rules and enjoy them with intense satisfaction.  Bridget loved her role and while their private play was so satisfying, she looked forward to their forays into various forms of public play.  Public Play involved exposing part of her BDSM life to the vanilla world.  Bridget always found it surprising.  She couldn’t believe the naughty sense of excitement she felt when she was exposed.  Was it humiliation, she wasn’t sure but it was very kinky indeed. She applied the bright red lipstick.  She loved the color and loved that her Master had told her he loved bright paint on her lips.  He said she was so attractive and luscious and he wanted her lips prominently displayed for him.  Next her fragrance, chosen because it was both understated and exotic.  At last she pulled on the long white gloves that came up to her elbows. Bridget and Master had discussed how she’d wear the long white gloves and he’d hogtie her and use his ball gag.  The picture in her mind of the helpless position always made her wet and horny.  Master had done this before.  Usually he rubbed a rabbit fur all over her body before he pulled her hair and squeezed her tit while he told her how he felt, what he wanted, and what he’d do with her next. As she turned toward the house she found the garage door open and as she had been instructed, she entered the garage and went to the back door leading into Master’s Rec room.  The lighting was subdued but she saw two large shapes draped in thin cloth.  She knew these were their BDSM toys.  Master had built a large cage for her amusement and a sturdy St Andrews cross that would fulfill her desire to be suspended and held helpless. Master had promised to cuff and chain her to the cross.  She knew she’d be naked and looked forward to the way master slipped a gag into her mouth before he applied something to her ass. Usually he forced a silicone bit gag into her mouth before he used his snake whip on her.  She could bite down on the bit and scream at the same time for the serious relief she craved.  Master had assured her she’d receive a serious whipping and perhaps caning that would leave some minor marks.  She wanted the marks.  She wanted to feel his touch afterward.  She wanted all of the things that ownership demanded. She knew Master had plans for an interesting combination Stocks and Spanking Bench.  Bridget had told Master she’d love to be placed in stocks and have her ass molested, pinched, bit, and butt plugged. She wondered if he’d make good on his promise to administer an enema while in the stocks.  Master had a lot of toys and equipment.  He had showed her the enema paraphernalia and it included an interesting flow meter that Master said was important to ensure reasonable flow and comfort.    Climbing the stairs she heard Master’s voice and it made her heart skip a beat.  She loved the way he spoke to her.  He didn’t speak at her rather he spoke with her, sharing his thoughts and sometimes emotions.  Master was sitting in a large black leather chair.  He was wearing his black suit with a black mandarin shirt and a nice red pocket square.  He leaned forward and motioned for her to come up.  He wondered about her trip and if the Ben Wa balls were still in place and how she liked them.  She told him about her journey and, yes, the Ben Wa twins were still in place and had directed her attention at the oddest of times, like stepping on the brakes. He asked her if she was ready, if she wanted to go through with their plans.  Did she really want all the things they had planned for, had discussed.  She knew what he was asking, giving her a graceful out.  Her mind was made up but his trust and care made her even more convinced that she wanted enslavement, wanted slavery, wanted to be an owned woman, Master’s property.  All of their discussions had led to this decision.  They both saw a Master/slave relationship as the purest and incidentally most fun form of a BDSM power exchange.  Both of their roles had been defined in term that made sense to both Bridget answered him by unbuckling her shoe clasps and removing her heels.  Pulling the ribbon from her hair she let it fall loose about her shoulders.  Bridget smiled at her Master and began removing all her clothing.  Finally she stood before her Master totally naked.  Master seemed very pleased. He rose and ran his fingers gently all over Bridget.  Master believed that a Gorean Master took great pride in his Kajira, his slave and should be familiar with every inch of her. Bridget knew that her actually collaring demanded that she be naked. She knelt gracefully before him, raised her arms over her head and crossed her wrists.  Bridget had assumed the Kolar or collar position of a Kajira, a Gorean slave.  She knew the message she was sending was that she was ready to be bound and collared.  Naturally she looked down and waited for Master.  The decision was not only made but by showing her acceptance of their planned bond to her Master she knew it was done.  How happy, how fulfilled.  She almost wanted to cry the emotions were so strong. Her life as a Kajira, a Gorean slave was about to begin.  See accepted that she must always be pleasing and offer perfect obedience. Master formally asked her why she was before him and what were her deepest desires for enslavement.  She continued to look down and at first her voice was a whisper but as she gained confidence she became secure and spoke with a clear steady voice.  She asked to be enslaved.  She pledged to serve Master in all ways.  She would be pleasing at all times with perfect obedience.  She would be the owned possession of Master, subject to his commands, dressing as he directed.  She spoke the words of enslavement, “bind me master”. She spoke the timeless pledge saying she wished to be enslaved and then crossing her wrists in front of her asked that Master bind her.  She felt the ceremonial tying of her wrists with the traditional Gorean yellow bindings.  Master then said he would complete the ceremony, their enslavement ritual, by collaring her.  She felt the collar begin to encircle her throat.  She gasped as he pulled her hair back so he could buckle the collar.  Her formal slave collar was polished metal and had a screw driven locking mechanism.  It would be difficult or next to impossible to remove, not that Bridget would ever think about removing the symbol that encircled her throat.  Master completed fastening her collar.  He took her chin in his hand and remarked on her beauty and suitability to be his Kajira. Master removed the bindings from her wrists and ordered her to stand and had her turn around slowly to display herself. She looked at herself and saw the beautiful collar.  All she could say was “La Kajira, La Kajira”, Gorean for I am a slave. Bridget now understood in a most intimate way that her master treasured her and wanted to enjoy his treasure.  Master had two more things to complete the ritual and the first had Bridget very nervous.  Bridget knew she was to be branded.  Thankfully the branding didn’t call for a real white hot branding iron.  Bridget received a henna dye print representation of the Gorean Kef, a very delicate elaborately beautiful “K”, leaving a sharp red image high on her left thigh.  Next Master spoke her new slave name. When Bridget and Master were together in their new roles, she would be “Sefa”.  Master explained that her new slave name was pronounced SEHF-ah and meant pleasure.  He said she was named that way to remind her how she must always be his pleasure slave.  She didn’t think that would ever be a problem. It was done. Bridget had been collared, branded, and named.   Master said he accepted her as his Kajira.  Master directed her to put on her garter, stockings, panties, and heels.  He snapped a leash onto her collar ring and said “bracelets”.  Bridget immediately put her wrists behind her back, slightly bowed her head, and turned around to receive Master’s manacles. Using the leash and her bound wrists he moved her forward.  Master led her around a bit and then out around the deck. Master often told her that bondage made a woman more beautiful and that served to make her move in a sensuous, elegant manner.  Bridget agreed and could think of nothing better than to be on her knees with her Master’s cock in her mouth. He took her over to a chair by the deck table.  He motioned for her to kneel.  He unclipped the leash and attached a short piece of chain to her collar.  The chain was connected to a d-ring embedded in one of the large deck posts.  Bridget was chained to a post with her wrists bound.  Never before had she felt so at peace.  She was owned.  She had been confined on her Master’s deck.  She felt the chain on her chest.  Bridget’s excitement was mixed with embarrassment and humiliation.  She was on her knees dressed like a tarty slut, out in the open for all the world to see.  She realized that Master was exhibiting her as his prize possession.  Of course she thought, it’s highly unlikely we’ll be disturbed.  We’re out in the woods on a secluded property with foliage all around.  Master laughed and said UPS or FEDEX might show up. Bridget’s life as a slave had begun.  She wished and waited for what was next.  Master said she was to be caged in his slave pen after they had discussed their enslavement ritual.  Master took a plate of fruit and picked up a small piece of melon.  He held it out for her to nibble. She daintily nibbled the fruit.  She was being fed by Master’s hand.  She felt a deep bond and happiness.  Next Master poured some of his cool drink into a small bowel.  He placed it before her and motioned for her to drink.  He was watering his slave, caring for his prize possession.  She knelt before the bowel and lapped at the drink. She felt so humiliated to be made to drink in this fashion but it also was so deliciously kinky.   Her journey had begun.  Life would never be the same.  A calmness, a fullness, a richness had descended on her soul.  Master caressed her cheek and breasts and then checked the manacles.  He also adjusted her collar.  Bridget knew master would always make sure she looked her best.  She was his prize possession. Master leaned back and took a small velvet sack from the side table.  “Nadu” Master commanded and Bridget went into the slave position that had her kneeling with her wrists behind her back. Bridget was fascinated  She knelt with her thighs spread wide, back arched, wrists crossed behind her back.  Master produced a bright red ball gag and told her to open her mouth. Bridget felt the ball pressed tightly into her mouth as Master firmly buckled the gag in place.  She found her hands bound behind her back, and the ball gag reduced her to small whimpers to communicate.  She knew she was vulnerable and totally in the control of her master.  It was delicious.  It made her wet just to think of all the things he would do with her.  The bracelets were gleaming metal and had a short length of chain between them so they were relatively comfortable. Master helped Bridget to stand.  He pulled her panties down to her ankles and helped her bend over. He guided her to lay across his lap and began to stroke and kneed her ass cheeks.  Master remarked that she had a pleasingly plump ass that just begged to be spanked.  Bridget felt her Master applying some kind of oil on her ass cheeks.  She wiggled across his lap into a more comfortable position. It made her feel exposed, controlled, at her Master’s mercy.  Bridget couldn’t believe how excited she felt, how she wanted more, more attention, more control. Master told Bridget that he wanted to assert his ownership, make sure she knew she was his property.  Bridget whimpered her assent. She wanted to be his,begged her master to have her, to make her his own, anyway he wanted.  Just do it now. Master began a slow rhythmic paddling of Bridget’s ass.  Slowly at first but soon faster and harder.  Bridget moaned and gasped. Master paused and asked Bridget if she was his, his property. Bridget thought “yes, yes, yes, have me, have all of me.  I am your Kajira and want to be nothing else”.  Master held up one finger which was the signal for silence Bridget was surprised that Master had shut her up, to be quiet.  She understood that he wanted to be in control.  He told her he felt so completed by their rituals.   Master loved the idea that they had built their own kinky world and Bridget loved the way he ruled it. He could silence her with a command or perhaps a gag.  She loved the delicious excitement when he placed a nice red silicone ball gag in her mouth.  Naturally Master could silence her by imposing speech restrictions and she always complied but the ball gag was so hot. Master reached behind her to the small table by his large leather chair.  Bridget felt his movement and turned her head.  “Oh my” she thought as Master’s hand held the red ball gag, a shiny bright metal butt plug, and a tube of lubrication.  Her heart beat faster as she realized she was in for another anal training session.  

I just bought some new tangerine colored panties and thought about going to the ABS, so I went home to change into some pretty underthings. i then went to my go-to ABS wearing a shear white button down cover-up, a white bandeau bra and my new tangerine colored panties under my pants. i bought my tokens, and as i walked to the back room, i unbuttoned my cover-up leaving my bra exposed. I sat down in the booth and it wasn’t long before I was sucking on a nice cock. After I finished off the second cock, a guy came into my booth waving me outside of my booth and into another booth. i walked in - a guy was stroking his Big Black Cock. It was the biggest cock i have ever saw, i mean it was massive! He pointed to my crotch and I lowered my jeans showing him my panties. He pointed again, and i lowered my panties showing him my little clitty. He stood up and pulled my clitty next to his cock. It was extremely humiliating to see my little white clitty next to his massive black cock. He put his arm on my shoulder directing me down to a stooping position, right in front of his cock. At first, it was all i could do just to get the head of his cock in my mouth, slowly i was able to get further down his shaft. After a while, he start to moan and thrusting his cock forward into my mouth. Shortly after that, he started to cum. After he filled my mouth with cum, he pulled out and his cum was still dripping out of his cock. He pulled up his pants and left.                

Let me tell you who I am and why I am this way. I am a natural leader! Not because I take it, because God made me this way. In High School, I was the Battalion Commander (the highest rank) for our military program. On active duty, I took operation out as the office in charge. I was enlisted but we were short officers so I was picked by field grade officers,  to lead the operation for my platoon. I didn't ask for any of this, it was given to me (by  God). I feel God gives us our path and it is up to us to walk it. I read the Bible, and it is very clear that he wanted man to be head of the house hold! You may ask, what about the women. Is she worthless, just an object, second rate! No, she is much more than most men realize, much more! She is his back bone, his purpose for living, his sounding board (to talk to on his ideas and hear her voice on it). Without a strong woman by his side, he cannot reach his potential (so he would never be at his best, without her)! You can agree or disagree, but like I said at the start, THIS IS WHO I AM!

  Things like begging, bondage, obedience training, orgasm control are the literal definition of being Owned in a D/s dynamic 

Master's WritingsCategorizing Levels of SubmissionOthers, in an attempt to categorize submissives, have described submissives by the levels of their submission, moving from role play to slave, while others suggest there are distinct categories of submission, where the motivation behind one’s submission drives their role such as for fantasy, relationship and/or fetish. Acknowledging that all submissives are different and any such categories could only apply in the loosest of terms, I find both model instructive in its own way, yet somehow missing the mark in some aspaspects.The creators of both models clearly identified that each individual submissive is unique and comes to their submission and depth of submission in their own way for their own purpose. And to this, I completely agree. Yet we are humans and we live to label things, so I will offer my own model, recognizing full well that mine too will fall short of describing all submissives and their motivations. I would also note that what I suggest here may have already been put forth. If so, I offer this only as my own ideas without the knowledge of their contribution to our body of knowledge. Thus I would offer a third model for consideration and discussion.I see it more a kin to the structure of Maslow‘s hierarchy of needs, Where Maslow identifies our most basic needs, moving from basic survival to self-actualization, I see submissions moving from role play to self-realization. The model I put forth is as follows:     Role play. A connection to the role based on whatever preconceptions or second hand knowledge they may have. While one might act the part, they have no emotional or mental connection to the role.     Exploration. The beginning stages of submissive awareness where thru trial and error or training, real experiences begin the development of a connection to a submissive’s awareness and one's submissive self. This level usually includes an over indulgence or over compensation of doing what they think a sub "should do".     Connection. The birth of inner connectedness to one’s submissive self, and the realization of what it feels like to give of one’s self to another. Hallmarked by a greater sense of self awareness, a growing identity as a submissive and a struggling to reconcile their submissive life with their vanilla life.     Identity and Belonging. The inner awareness and shift of self-identity as a submissive or having submissive side (as in a switch), as a genuine and acknowledged part of their persona. While they may not share this openly with others, inwardly there is a growing conviction that being a submissive is core to their being. While connection can occur at any stage, at this stage, connection to a Dominant becomes more essential to allow for further growth.     Confidence. As identity as a submissive grows and self-esteem relating to the role increases, their confidence of self grows. The focus can now be more inward to understand their submissive needs, who they are as a submissive, and the beginning of blending their submissive self into their vanilla life and identity.     Self-Realization and Connectedness to their Id. Full acceptance of their new identity, as submission is fully integrated into their sense of self. Submission can now fuel their lives and relationships with greater meaning and richer experiences as they fully integrate their submissive-self into their vanilla life. Not every submissive will reach or choose to reach this level. I would welcome comments and ideas for the improvement of this model if others see value in it. 

this came to me last night as they do....the multi level.   first level is the lyrics: "Touch, touch I remember touch Touch, touch I remember touch Where do I belong? Touch, I need something more I remember touch I need something more in my mind Touch, I remember touch Pictures came with touch A painter in my mind Tell me what you see A tourist in a dream A visitor, it seems A half-forgotten song Where do I belong? Tell me what you see I need something more Kiss, suddenly alive Happiness arrive Hunger like a storm How do I begin? A room within a room A door behind a door Touch, where do you lead? I need something more Tell me what you see I need something more Home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer, you're You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer You're home, hold on If love is the answer, you're Touch, sweet touch You've given me too much to feel Sweet touch You've almost convinced me I'm real I need something more I need something more"   love of a 5d radical detachment spiderweb synchronistic beyond the physical vibe ting.   then we go to the actual song for the layer, pauls intonation and the cloudy vibes emphasize...   TO---UU-CCHHH.   TOUCH!   A YEEEEEEEE   re MEM bah TOUCH!   the key is in how he says it...you could simply speak, touch. i. re.mem.ber. touch. but he choses how to speak it in a way that carries a deeper message.   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Gkhol2Q1og&pp=ygUPdG91Y2ggZGFmdCBwdW5r     4 years ago this fellow probably scriber made this video. amalgamizing from the person's text video from another daft punk  that i actually either didn't see or didn't remember that synched perfectly to it.   i want to emphasize in my 20s i took the blowing up to mean literal but now at 37 forward i see it as radical detachment..the key isn't ejecting it's removing what seems so familiar and deeply you to ascend to another playing level of life. it feels like it's exploding but it actually is simply elevating.   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wP1w5M0F57U   i'll always be salty that daft punk stopped sharing the message and the lessons...but we all know when it's time to let it go and be the merlin like in the 1998 movie that only tells stories. i'm just salty they are simply telling stories and not in it anymore. but whatever i'll get over it. they'll always be grandfathers, masters, ascendedness in more ways than one. and well at least they are still around there's that.   side note on the message if you are on my frequency and you've seen this movie/tv special you are probablllllllllly like me that queen mab was the end beginning and everything and her son mordred is the best boy hottie husband/boyfriend/romantic attraction if men are your deal. if he an arthur we don't want em. funny thing is, with all this esoteric work i've done i've cracked a code that some men that carry the archangel michael energy in their souls tend to have either slightly or obsessively horrible connections with their moms and how it is their personal life lesson to balance their nurturing protective nature in the reflection on earth with their parental upbringing. and wellll mordred babe DEF reflaspects that.   at least for me the key is to be queen mab, bellatrix, galaxia from sailor moon etc. but NOT kill people this time...wield the same thing but be cutting and cunning..but don't go full in. the balance is the lesson this time around.

My outlook on D/ s is a process the first choice is your choice to be sub and mine is Dom.  We agree to a form of power change and define what our power exchange will cover. Then first and this is what mater what are the strengths of the sub, attributes like in your case humor. Plus as many as we can define together.  Same for weakness. Must improve. What is off limits. This can take time but worth it. As we discuss in depth we both learn our foundation is the sub .  What is good we encourage growth . Bad we take steps to modify the goals a road map to achieve. It is now the Doms role to fit his own strengths into reaching the subs plan to make them shine and excel.  . The kink, discipline, rules and reward system a Dom is the same as a good Dad, a Boss .. maybe therapist. Except A Dom has kink as a tool...  I have been a father, a boss trained countless people and Dom came easy . It's an honor to have anyone put faith in me. It then puts tremendous pressure on me to take them to where they envision not my vision.  It may feel to them it's my vision .  In the end most have understood and were gracious thankfully. Don't know why I am sharing .. did.   

Values beyond the flesh So often I hear from ladies how this guy just wants sex, that guy just wants nudes, or even in a local trend "Doms" charging sex for scenes claiming they deserve it for all the work which gets put in by them :eyeroll: The desires of the flesh leaves so much unseen. The beauty of the mind, warmth of a heart, passions of ones soul have always been so captivating to me. Even at a young age in gradeschool I found myself writing poems well beyond my years. I was recognizing the fact that the flesh fades. Wrinkles will form. The body changes with stress, kids, injuries, and any number of factors which life throws our way. That "perfect wrapper" was purely a deception and the true beauty laid so much deeper. So over the years I dated ladies of a wide range of physical descriptions. Race, weight, disabilities, prior traumas, were not detractors but seen as part of the history she had lived and what helped shape her into the wonderful person she was. I put my heart and soul into the relationship easing away the scars revealing the beautiful lady which laid beneath all those layers. In return I was presented with someone stronger, wiser, and more loving than ever before. It was a healthy wonderful exchange with great rewards. I took on many scars of my own over the years. My face is wrinkled with the stress of it all. My heart is tired and sore. For all that I took on in my life I have been showing the wear and tear. Even still I hear those same complaints. Nomatter the smiles I try to bring the story is always the same. Lady's will complain about all the heartache brought by such disgusting leaches which drink their heart and soul dry all while overlooking the guy who can truly love them and treat them as they truly deserve. As more than a piece of flesh, but as that person deserving of support, compliments, a partner truly there for them in this life. The person standing right there next to her through all this heartache crying his own tears at her pain. The one called upon in distress, but never seen truly.  

Secret Room "Of her naked body this: that he had never seen anything so beautiful." -Lindsay Hall, Sea of Hooks (My mission is to get you all to read this book)  

What makes me a good Domme? Simple: I actually know what I’m doing. I’m not one of these “rawr I’m dominant” girls who just yells and hopes it counts. I lead with intention, precision, and zero delusion. I know what I want, what I won’t tolerate, and what I expect from anyone who wants to be in my orbit. I’m a good Domme because I don’t chase…I select. I listen…not because I need your opinion, but because I want to understand your wiring. I prioritize your stability, not just your fantasies. I have standards high ones. Olympic-level. If you can’t breathe at this altitude, that’s a you problem. I’m funny, but I don’t play. I’m soft when you’ve earned it, and ice cold when you need it. I can make you feel seen and safe, or make your ego evaporate like tap water in July. Duality is my superpower. I don’t confuse dominance with shouting, cruelty with carelessness, or power with pretending. My dominance is lived, not performed. It’s in how I think, how I move, how I choose, how I correct. I don’t need theatrics…my presence is the authority. And the subs who get me? They don’t just behave…they grow. Because I’m not here to babysit their kinks; I’m here to shape their discipline, their service, and their usefulness. So what makes me a good Domme? Easy: I don’t just dominate your body….I refine your mind, your habits, and your entire approach to serving a woman like me.

The Weight of Three Minutes - An Erotic Short Story  The marble is cold under your knees. I designed the room precisely for this quality of cold, for the way it travels upward through a kneeling body and reminds it, without a word from me, of exactly where it is. The morning light moves across your bowed shoulders and finds the faint lines on your skin, my lines, exactly where I left them.   You hold the cup steady. I will give you that.   My fingers brush yours as I take it. A conductivity test, reading the current of you through brief contact. You do not tremble. Good. I bring the rim to my lips.   The first sip tells me everything. The base notes are correct, the Darjeeling first flush I require. But beneath it, the steep is wrong. Three minutes would have given me what I require. You gave me four. The tannins have opened in a way they should not have been permitted to, and the result is an astringency that sits at the back of the palate like a small, deliberate insult.   You know. You felt it before I tasted it, felt the error in the air the way a barometer feels weather. Your world has narrowed to the space between my slippered feet. Good. That is where it belongs.   I say your name. Just that.   "Yes, Goddess." The word hangs in the quiet room like an offering I have not yet decided to accept.   "The specifications are precise and they are not suggestions. Water temperature ninety degrees. Steep time three minutes. Measured. Not estimated. Not felt."   "Yes, Goddess."   "Explain the deviation."   The muscle in your jaw tightens. I catalog it. "The leaves were newer stock. I thought a longer steep would develop the flavor more fully. Bring out the muscatel notes you prefer."   "You thought."   I begin to circle you. Slowly. I am never in any hurry. I place my gaze on the back of your neck with the deliberate weight of something being pressed into soft material.   "You introduced variables. You assumed. Perfection does not accommodate feeling. The muscatel note I prefer is arrived at in precisely three minutes. Not your interpretation. Not your instinct. Three minutes, measured, as specified."   "A flaw in the cup is a flaw in the man. Do you doubt my parameters?"   "No, Goddess. Never."   But your fingers curl inward where they rest on your thighs. I see it. I note it. Nothing is too small to matter.   "Stand."   You rise in one fluid motion, taller than me, broader. And yet you make yourself smaller in my presence, as you have learned to do. It is one of the things I have built in you that I find most satisfying.   "Look at me."   Your eyes meet mine. The familiar desperate focus is there, the terror of demotion. But beneath it, a flicker. Not defiance. Something more interesting. A spark of independent thought, alive and un-extinguished.   My fingers, cool and precise, trace the line of your jaw. The shudder that moves through you is full-bodied and involuntary. Your breath catches.   "The grade for today's service is pending. We will see if the rest of your performance can correct the imbalance."   I turn toward the lounge. "Follow."   Two steps behind, as trained. The cage sits in its corner, black steel and clean lines, always the outer boundary of the visible world.   "Kneel here. You will remain until I have need of you. You will not speak. You will not move. You will contemplate the difference between three minutes and four."   You sink into position. Back straight, hands on thighs, head at the precise angle I have trained into you. You are, when you are like this, a beautiful object. I have made you that.   Not a muscle moves. Your breathing barely disturbs the air. Every resource of you pointed at the single task of being still enough to please me.   And yet. You chose to deviate. You chose to trust your own palate over my doctrine.   Something uncoils in my attention. Not anger. Sharper. Interest, which in my world is rarer and more dangerous than fury.   I say your name again, soft as a petal released from a great height.   Your eyes lift instantly.   "Come here."   You cross the distance on your knees and stop before me, your face level with my lap. You wait with your entire body.   "The grade is failing. A failing slave is placed in the cage. Denied touch. Denied sight."   Your throat moves. "Yes, Goddess."   "Do you wish to be caged?"   "I wish only what you wish, Goddess."   "That is not an answer. It is a recitation. The one who extended the steep had a wish. What was it?"   "I wished for it to be perfect for you. Not just correct. Perfect. The new harvest felt like an opportunity and I wanted to find something in it that you had not yet tasted."   There it is. Your ambition, layered over my specifications, believing itself generous.   I slide my fingers into your hair and close them. The breath that leaves you is unsteady. Your eyes close. "Your wish introduced error," I say, close to your ear. "Your personal pursuit of my pleasure contaminated the delivery of it. That is the failure."   I pull your head back. Your eyes open, wide, stripped of calculation. Simply present. Exposed. Looking up at the only person in your world who matters.   "And yet," my thumb finds the pulse hammering in your throat, "it was a beautiful ambition."   I release you.   "The grade remains failing. But the correction will be hands-on."   "Remove your shirt."

When covid came about, i/we did everything we could to protect ourselves.   To this day we continue to do everything we can to protect ourselves.   My 1st bout with covid was due to my boss not having any sense   Running a fever stay away from people, he came to my desk.   I have had both vaccines and the booster.   Had i not taken another covid test would not have known i was positive.   Moral of the story:   Just because you are vaccinated you can still catch. I did not have any symptoms yet i was positive and could pass the virus to someone else.   Stay safe / stay healthy   i don't know about you; however, i am over it.

Inspection The first step in the process of a slave becoming My property is inspection.  I have been asked many times what is involved with inspectuin,  Here it is: Inspection is its opportunity to demonstrate its desire to become nothing but slave property: an it. Inspection may take just a few minutes. How long does it take to inspect a piece of meat? What will happen at inspection depends on how it pleases Me. it may be sent away with nothing more than a casual viewing. it may be offered the opportunity to demonstrate its desire to become nothing. At inspection, it may leave at any time without any restraint. In other words it will still have choice. However, if both Master and potential slave property agree more may take place. For example, Master may take the time and trouble to explain the process by which the slave becomes property. The slave may have the opportunity to ask questions. Further activities may, or may not, follow.

The Meaning of a collar The collar is one of the firsts to come to mind when we think about leather in its simplest functional form. Yet whether a collar is fastened on ones own neck or seen adorned by another, it always evokes a deep response, but what is the cultural meaning behind the collar – and why does it get our hearts racing without fail?The collar has been a key piece in the process – as it easily transcends worlds without losing its radical potential. In fashion, the collar is an enduring symbol of pushing boundaries. It’s been part of the subcultural dress code since the early days of the punk movement. Collars served as a finishing touch to outfits already ridden with safety pins and chains – at times, in line with the community’s resourceful spirit, those were the actual sturdy dog collars from pet shops. Collars were a fitting accessory for self-proclaimed underdogs – and a nod to sexual subversiveness as a part of broader nonconformity. The collar has a deep significance in the BDSM and kink community as the ultimate symbol of power exchange. Worn around the neck, it signifies the submissive role or exploration of submissive desires. It is a foundation for collaring ceremonies (and since recently, self-collaring) which celebrate relationship dynamics and identities, a crucial asset for play, and a fun way to toy with these ideas maybe for a few hours at a party. Getting a collar for yourself or accepting a collar as a gift from someone else can be a sincere gesture of romantic connection – or simply an act of self-love and being open to new types of experiences. When the buckle closes around your neck – that sweet tight pull and release – the collar stops being an and becomes an invitation to explore a different mindset or role, play with the energy it brings you and see where it takes you. Whether combined with clothes or on its own, wearing a collar can be intriguing, arousing, moving, comforting or even thrilling. A perfect collar combines the visual ect of form and functio, with texture, sturdiness, and the quality of materials from which it is crafted. Wearing a collar is an embodied experience rooted in psychology and sensation. Our necks are sensitive and vulnerable, a precious vessel for nerves and arteries, a place that holds erotic tension. A collar is a reminder of human fragility, connection, commitment, and the courage to show up as your authentic self.    

Slave Reference Hi Master, Thankyou, for a very enjoyable day. Now lets start at the beginning. i arrived at the Met at about one . You showed up, and again i thought…mmm…nice guy, (sorry we women always like to check guys out and You scored quite highly on my scale) so i went over and said hi. This was when embarrassment took over. i am very nervous around dominant men and when You asked me if i was interested in being Your sub i think i went into shock mode. i was not expecting You to be that upfront…yeh i thought there would be a lot of small talk first…but i suppose that is what makes You dominant and turns me on! We then headed off for a little private conversation and it is here that the memory gets a little hazy. i think i was in some sort of shock that this was all happening to me. You had me kneel down in front of You and i know you put a collar on me (the first i have ever worn) but i am not sure if that was before or after You made me kiss Your boots. You told me to undo my jacket and shirt and at this point i was feeling just a tad nervous but did as You said. After hefting my boobs out of my bra You tied my hands behind my back…ah that’s right… that was when You told me to kiss Your boots. (I remember because I couldn’t get down without feeling I was going to hit the floor but I didn’t want to disappoint you so I tried my best). I know we talked about my safe word and that You don’t like leaving any long term marks and have a First Aid Certificate. Was that supposed to make me feel safe? i hope You don’t have to use what You learnt to get the certificate!  After leaving this room, (You did allow me to button my shirt but my boobs were still hanging free underneath) we went and looked at some of the stalls. You bought some toys, what i later found out was a ball gag and some sort of flogger. (and i later found out that could be quite painful when it hit my nipples!) We went and had a cup of coffee and then another “private chat.”  You again made me kneel, something i guess i am going to have to get used to doing and then undid my shirt and put nipple clamps on me. Wow did they hurt, however iwas determined not to use the safe word. i thought i may seem a bit of a wimp if i did, but my nipples are extremely sensitive. Other parts of my boobs are OK but the nipples…ouch…After experiencing this You asked me to kiss you boots again and then asked me to kissed your leather trousers one bit at a time until i reached the top…mmm…my brain was going haywire so what do i do when I reached the top! Especially as i kept having to kiss each side alternatively…Could i accidentally slip and land one right in the middle…oops…but that would probably mean punishment and i wasn’t sure if i was ready for that! (but wow was i turned on!). so after managing to survive through this and having been instructed to call You Master, we left that nice little cosy room to circulate.  After grabbing a bite to eat it was eventually time to get dressed for the party. You again put the collar on me and lead me around for a little while and then made me strip off my skirt and top….Oh dear. So after putting on ankle and wrist cuffs You tied me in there and proceeded to touch me up…mmm…starting to get a bit wet at this point…then You opened the door and used the flogger (Cat of nine tails?) oh yes and the pin wheel (my favourite implement of torture…so far at least).Oh and those dratted nipple clamps came out again! Master, even though i was hanging out all over the place…i could only close my eyes and pretend no one was looking at me…mmm…then enjoyment started to take over…and i think for a while i actually forgot i was virtually naked. When you let me out of the box You had me crawl onto another piece of equipment, a bit difficult as i had no means of leverage as my hands were tied behind my back. Eventually i made it and then my bottom got a work out…ouch…the flogger was not too bad but gee whiz did that paddle sting…i was nearly ready to call the safe word but it was as if you guessed i could not take anymore because you stopped.  After allowing me to put my top back on (i would later learn that was definitely not to be taken for granted) Once we had both downed our coffees you lead me to a contraption of which i have absolutely no idea what it is called, but you tied my wrists to the suspended bar at the top and my ankles to the bar at the bottom and the proceeded use that little toy you bought (a baby flogger?) on my boobs and nipples…ouch…and the…well i am not sure what you used on by back and bum because I couldn’t see it…but I did enjoy it! After spending some time on this I started to feel a bit woozy and I would almost say boneless for want of a bet way to describe how I felt. i asked You, Master if i could put my top on and was told not to make suggestions (I will try hard not to, i promise Master).  We returned to the play room for our final play of the evening.  Again that paddle came out…ouch…while i was holding the flogger in my mouth! i did, however, enjoy the pinwheel  even though it did start to get a little heavy especially when You used it on my paddled bum! After this play i was definitely woozy, dizzy almost and shaking.