Theres a huge huge difference between people who do things for you because they have to, through obligation manipulation coercion threats or whateverVersus people who do things for you simply because they adore you and want you to be happyThe 1st set are worthless to MeThe 2nd ... Priceless Not saying I don't enjoy enticing puppeting manipulating coercing even mindfkg .. bc I absolutely do!!  In fact I used to find subliminal manipulation and blatant MindFucks particularly entertaining..  allatime everywhere lol weg But only for Funsies with wellbonded friends at the Trust level of ConsensualNonconsent .. which I had with so many onceupon.  Good times!! But so many relocated .. and too many passed, sobs .. venues closed, everythings Different, the World has Changed ..as it always does, and as must I, again. Ik Ik. "The best way to predict ones future is to create it."    Shame Quality Muses seem superscarce this decade. ah well. Def past time to explore new Hunting Grounds irl .. nilla and alt .. hmm believe theres an alt party 12 16 somewhere .. 

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 really feel badly over what transpired this past week. i have enjoyed many rewarding experiences in r/l and sometimes talking via this site can open up minds and really get minds thinking towards a r/l meeting. there have been some special people i have met and they are exactly what i expected. i think i need to step back from this site. it hasn't happen in sometime, but i think someone has ghosted me, i guess they were not up to coffee or a meal. i do not play on my first meet. that is just dangerous.  so my mind closes again until someone is clever enough to open it. this world is not bs to me, but maybe vanilla is the answer....

So i think it's time to make an update on here. I have COPD and it's bad....like i have 5 months left to live bad.... no need to cry for me, i beleave i lived a good life and did my best with that time i had. anyways.....thats all for now.....ask if you want to know more

Heyyyy! Journals are back and we can communicate like humans again. My profile is mostly blank because nothing ever got approved. In all seriousness, when I started my own business a few years ago the pressure and time demands of that forced everything to take a back seat. I lost a wonderful slave girl who just never got to see me enough and the rare times I would see my friends they would all say I looked different. In the end, the sacrifices and 120hr work weeks were worth it. I've succeeded way beyond anything I expected and now have friends and employees that take over a lot of the burden. At the end of the year (weeks away!) I am completing a 2 year contract and I expect to have as much time off as I want and resources to get back into some of the projaspects I was working on and purchase/develop some new machinery. This time around I would ideally like to find someone with the same interests and hobbies as I have, that way my work and home life don't clash so forcefully where I am in some awful position of choosing one. What I'm seeking doesn't have to be some kind of romantic thing with THE ONE (although that's ideal). I'm willing to chat and help out with interesting people and their projaspects. Send me a message if you have any questions or want to see anything cool!

I had one of those dreams that takes you all over the place (takes has an s because the subject is one, not dreams- grammar is important). I actually knew all of the key players in this dream, that almost never happens. It was all family. Started out at some kind of a community pool that was right next to a prison. Random, I know. My brother was playing catch with some kid in the pool using my dog's ball. Of course the ball bounces out of the pool area and over the fence into the space in front of the prison. Can't get it. I decide I'm going to ask the guard in the tower with the gun if it's okay to go around and get my dog's ball, but right then all the sirens go off and someone is escaping. The pool transforms into the house we're all staying at with a bunch of sliding glass doors right there. I'm freaking out and trying to close and lock the doors because the escapee has climbed the fence and is about to come into the house. And he does. His name is Han and he sits down with us and eats some pie that my sister made. The pie is terrible. But then my parents show up and it's a big game of pretend Han didn't just escape and we also don't have completely working electricity so fake them out with switches and light bulbs. I think at that point it morphed into this whole trying to set me up with this guy who happened to stop by situation, and now we're at my grandmother's house. They all love him. I do not. He's a nice guy and all, but just not for me. Blah, blah, blah, details, and then it's Christmas and an entirely different house I don't know, but my family is there and someone bought me another puppy. It's small and brown and although his name is Jelly Bean I rename him Buffalo Bill. He's running all around chasing cats and having a good time. Phone call from my grandmother because I made her cookies turns into a tech support call for a gift she got. She's dead, by the way. I don't often dream of her but here she is. Blah, blah, family stuff. I don't remember the reason but my brother and I end up outside searching for something down the street. Not the dogs, something else. We don't find it and as we walk back to the house the door is wide open. We're concerned. Go inside, inquire, and my fucking step father left the door wide open and didn't know it. None of the animals got out but son of a bitch if that isn't par for the course right there. More weird stuff happened but I'll stop there. Buffalo Bill? I guess it's not impossible. I mean, it was my dream, right? But so random. The real puppy is doing the heavy sleep breathing a few inches from my head. I both love when she's close and find it annoying that I can't move around the way I tend to because she's blocking me. She is extra cute, though, so right now I'm going to give her kisses and try to sleep for a little before the alarm. 

If you want me...Tell me. Don't wait for me to approach you, You may be broken a little bit inside, but you have to start by fixing yourself.. Do not wait for someone to come along and try to fix you. If you cancel our first date because you are afraid of what you can not control, than there will not be a second date. If you want to stick to chatting only, I will think that you probably have no interest in pursuing anything and I will move on. If you pretend not to give a fuck, I will think you really do not give a fuck, and I will move on. If the only way you can show your love is with your legs wide open... Than it probably will not last.. So why try? If you want me, you need to step out of your shadow and insecurities. It won't be easy, but it will be worth it.

I'm addIng this more so I remember it than anything else. I'm not used to being afraid.  Death was never really a deterrent... He'll between the ages of 18 and 25 I was actively trying to get myself killed.  I've walked through Cabrini Green at midnight, stood and taunted a guy shooting at me because he was to drunk to be acurate.  I was on a first name basis with the cops in three counties by the time I was 21.  Just adding that for context. After my fall I was chained to a hospital bed for months.  The old age home I went to just exuded a miasma of death.  I had nothing to do but watch TV.  I didn't even own a TV at the time. The worst part was not being able to use the bathroom.   Now I get panic attacks thinking about it.  I'm not worried about being killed but I'm terrified of being a quadriplegic.  I can't read books or watch TV that includes guys in that condition.  Being trapped in jail seems to get to me as well.  Just being unable to move around or take a shower when I need it. I am not used to this.

I really do need to find a man to take me in for retraining. Since my last LTR ended I have been unable to find anybody of the calibre needed to properly dominate me. And properly dominated I need to be. If you are the sort of man who would grab me by my blonde hair and unceremoniously put me over your knees, push my skirt up off my bum, pull my panties down as I squealed and kicked around and give me a thrashing for nothing more than pouting my disapproval at you when you told me to do something. If you are the sort of man who is comfortable enough in your ownership of me to publically humiliate me and/or lend me out to one of your mates occasionally. If you are the sort of man who would keep a variety of implements in the wardrobe solely to punish me with and used them on me regularly whether I misbehaved or not just to keep me in my place and because you enjoyed doing it. If you are the sort of man who would make sure that I always had fresh welts and whip marks on me to demonstrate your complete ownership and domination of me. If you are the sort of man who would lock me in the garage, shed or spare room for hours on end to give me plenty of time to reflect on my shortcomings before coming in to administer a good thrashing to me. If you are the sort of man who would take great pleasure in seeing me hog tied and gagged, struggling on the floor. If you are the sort of man who would give me a good slap across the side of my face hard enough to send me sprawling if I back chatted you. If you are the sort of man who would expect a girl to know her place, do all your housework, do it to your expectations and do it with a smile on her face or else. If you are the sort of man who, while watching the footy on TV and I was doing a big pile of ironing in the laundry, would shout out to me for a beer and expect me to immediately fetch it from the fridge, open it and put it into a beer cooler before hurrying to hand it to you with a smile on my face. If you are the sort of man who would not allow me to leave the house or do anything without your permission and who dictates to me what I should be wearing. If you are the sort of man who would take great pleasure from watching me squirm and squeal on the floor as your belt leaves bright red welts on my bum, thighs and back. If you are the sort of man whom I would be a little bit frightened of. If you are the sort of man who expaspects me to be dressed like a girl should be dressed to please a man, in miniskirts, short dresses, sexy panties, heels and stockings. If you are the sort of man who would occasionally reward me by treating me like a lady even though we both know that I’m nothing but your slut. If you are the sort of man who is intelligent, articulate, financially stable and is prepared to put in the work on me to give me the life that I deserve. If you are even some of those things you are a real man and a rare man. Where are you? I NEED YOU!

1. In your first message don't say something like. " Hi how are you doing?" and that is your only message/words.  I won't even answer that. Be more upfront.  2. Please understand here is what I am NOT looking for    A. Not looking for someone that is married   B. Not looking for a weekend here and there   C. Not looking for someone that drinks, smokes and addicted        to drugs. (herb is ok)   D. Not looking to change your diapers   E. Not looking for attention seekers or someone high           maintance   F. Not looking for someone that is new and looking for     someone to train it (unless your ready to go full in)    G. I'm not a Pro and I'm not looking to play games.   H. Not looking for someone that isn't willing to better themselves   I. In general I'm not looking for a city person that is afraid to get dirty.    J. I'm not " needy " I'm more interested in finding a service slave/sub.   K. I'm not interested in seeing your ass pictures.  I'll probably add more to this list later. But HOPEFULLY you read this and don't bother writing if ...your not what I'm looking for. I try to make things simple and to the point.  p.s. I'M NOT LOOKING FOR A DOM.  I PROMISE YOU I WILL NEVER BE YOUR SUB OR SLAVE. I'm not an egotistic person and I do my share of what needs to be done around here. I  believe in harmony. 

Shared with me on this site:   Basic Rules1 The maleslave must always practice respect, whether in private or public, as directed For example, in public stand when Mistress enters the room and sit only after She is seated in private, drop to knees, nose to floor the moment Mistress enters the room, slave does not sit in Mistresss presence2 Be totally attentive For example, in public, open doors, offer Her slaves coat, She sits first, begins to eat first, and always ask permission to leave her presence in private, always try to anticipate Her desires and always respond with eager enthusiasm to complete any task She wants3 The maleslave should never speak unless spoken to, or unless anticipating the needs of his Mistress4 The slave will never sit with legs spread or slouch in a way typical of untrained males Good posture and decorum is a sign of respect5 The maleslave will never stare at a woman without her permission Unless the woman seeks eyecontact, the slave submissive will keep his eyes lowered at all times6 When walking with his Mistress, or any woman, the slave will keep his gait in step with hers, which usually means taking smaller steps The maleslave should always be at least 12 steps behind, but not too far because he must open all doors7 The slave must always be pleasant, never argue and never pout8 The maleslave surrenders control of how he spends his time, how he dresses, what he eats, where he sleeps, the friends or acquaintances he is allowed to keep9 The maleslave must remember that his orgasm does not belong to him but to his Mistress It is Hers to use or deny however she sees fit Ideally, slave must accept he may be left in permanent chastity, which he thanks Her for10 The maleslave may never touch his own genitals without the permission of his Mistress When washing, he must use a wash cloth or brush, never his hands11 The maleslave should never buy his own clothing without the guidance of his Mistress He should buy what pleases her, not what he likes12 When urinating, the maleslave will always sit on the toilet not toilet seat no exceptions13 The maleslave must submit to eating only submissive food selected by his Mistress whenever she requires it14 When a meal is over the slave must be quick to clear the table and wash the dishes15 The maleslave must always give his Mistress the first choice of everything She picks the channel on TV to watch, the restaurant to go to, the movie to see, the friends to entertain, etc16 The makeslave will perform all household chores for his dominate, to include but not limited t

051126 WOMEN POWERFUL WOMEN HOW DO THEY EXIST? WHERE DO THEY COME FROM? WHY ARE MEN SO AFRAID OF WOMEN IN POWER? MEN TREAT WOMENS POWER AS A NOVELTY, A SIDE SHOW, OR SOMETHING NOT NORMAL. ALL MEN, OWE ALL WOMEN THE RESPECT DESERVED OF A HUMAN ON EQUAL FOOTING. CREATED IN THE IMAGE OF GOD. TO GO SO FAR AS TO STEEP THE VERY MEANING OF GOD INTO MASCULINITY.  SOUNDS VERY MAGA TO ME AND OH SO LAST CENTURY. DO NOT CONFUSE TRUTH WITH BIAS.  I LOVE HUMANS AND GIVE THEM THE RESPECT THEY SHOW ME. POWERFUL WOMEN WHY ARE MEN SO AFRAID OF WOMEN OF POWER? PERHAPS BECAUSE DEEP DOWN MEN UNDERSTAND THAT WHICH THEY HAVE CREATED... A HIGHLY EVOLVED SOCIAL CREATURE WHO SPECIALIZES IN PSYCHOLOGICAL WAREFARE.   FOR CENTURIES WOMENS POWER HAS BEEN REDUCED, DIMINISHED, AND SHACKELED WITHIN SOCIETIES, LEAVING THE MOST OPPORTUNITY FOR EXPRESSION AND GROWTH THROUGH CUNNING AND THROUGH MANIPULATION. POWERFUL WOMEN, TRULY GLORIOUSLY BEAUTIFUL POWERFUL WOMEN ARE HONEST, SINCERE AND TRANSPARENT. POWERFUL MEN, TRULY GLORIOUSLY BEAUTIFUL POWERFUL MEN ARE HONEST, SINCERE AND TRANSPARENT. SEE A THEME? EQUALITY AND INTEGRITY.  HUMAN RIGHTS.  ALL HUMAN RIGHTS.  I WILL GO SO FAR AS, EVERY LIVING RIGHT.  BUT LETS NOT GET AHEAD OF OURSELVES AND INCLUDE THE BIRDS, THE BEES, AND THE TREES...MAN IS LOOKING LIKE THIS DAWNING IS A BIT FARTHER OUT AT THE MOMENT. LETS TALK ABOUT, CELEBRATE AND BREATHE DEEPLY OF THE POWERFUL WOMAN. SHE KNOWS WHO AND WHAT SHE IS AND ACCEPTS HER DIVINITY AND SUBMISSIVITY TO THE DIVINE, OWNING THAT TRUE CONTROL IS WITHIN. PRESENCE. POWERFUL WOMEN DO NOT SEEK REVENGE. IF MEN, ALL MEN WERE NOT AFRAID OF WOMEN, THEY WOULD DEMAND TO ENCODE A WOMANS RIGHT TO CHOOSE AS FEDERAL LAW.  THERE SHOULD BE MEN IN THE STREETS, CONTACTING THEIR CONGRESS, DEMANDING TO BE HEARD. INSTEAD MEN ARE PERMITING ATTROCITIES TO BE COMMITTED AGAINST A BEING BECAUSE THEY SIMPLY DO NOT HAVE THE PHYSICAL STRENGTH TO FIGHT THEM.  TRUST THAT IF WOMEN WERE PHYSICALLY STRONGER THAN MEN THAT THEIR WOULD BE NONE OF THIS RAPE CHIT, MOLESTATION, AND RIGHT TO LIFE CHIT. YET WHY DO MEN SHOW THEIR HAND SO WILLINGLY THAT THEY ARE SO ENTIRELY UNEVOLVED AND FEARFUL?  PERHAPS THE REASONING AS HOW TRUMP BECAME PRESIDENT... 60% OF AMERICANS READ AT A 6TH GRADE LEVEL. OR AS GUMP SAYS, STUPID IS AS STUPID DOES. FRIENDS, ITS OLD.  YOU ARE OLD IF YOU BELIEVE WOMEN ARE NOT ONLY YOUR EQUALS BUT THAT RECOGNITION OF THEIR DIVINITY IS THE THING THAT IS GOING TO SAVE YOU... BECAUSE...IT TAKES TWO TO TANGO AND YOU WONT BE HAPPY UNTIL WE ARE ALL HAPPY.  PERIOD. THUS YOU ARE HOLDING YOURSELF BACK BY NOT ACKNOWLEDGING WE ARE ONE AND WHAT YOU DO UNTO US YOU DO UNTO YOU. PAIN SUFFERING AND DENIAL. ITS WHY SO MANY OF YOU ARE TRYING TO TRANSFORM AND WHY SO MAN OTHERS ARE SO RIGID. YOU ARE AFRAID TO LIVE IN YOUR TRUTH.  

So glad to finally be back. I have attempted to make an account and it wouldn't allow for it. I miss the CM days with the chat feature...I am finding it quite interesting that there are so many users, fellow Kinksters still remaining here for so long. Many of the new apps and sites are seemingly full of hook-up seekers. Not genuine Dominants.  If You read this, please note: I am not here for cyber and I am not looking to be collared overnight...this is a process and both parties MUST have needs filled. Thanks For Reading! 

Requirements as a submissive; honesty, trust, and genuine effort, not perfection.   I think a lot of people have the wrong idea or wrong impression of what it takes to be in a dynamic. They have this fairy tale mentality about BDSM dynamics and what they should be like. I imagine this is because in some ways they have been so romanticized and popularized that its a great fantasy for things to work out that way. Unfortunately though, that isn't reality. At least not for the majority of us. We don't need perfect. We aren't looking for perfect, and we don't want you to be perfect. What we want is honesty, trust, and genuine effort.   Now those three things can mean a lot more than what they look like on the surface. So lets break it down a little. Starting with honesty. What does honesty mean? Well it means a lot. It means being honest, being truthful, being real, meaning what you say, and saying what you mean. It means so much more than that but I think that you get the idea. Take it from someone who found out the hard way how difficult life can be when you don't live it honestly compared to how much easier it is when you just live within the truth. When there are no secrets or games and you are just you, all of the good parts and the bad. You take responsibility for yourself and your faults and when you screw up you admit it. You are honest about who you are and what you want. One of the biggest parts in honesty in my opinion though, being a person of your word. If you say you are going to do something, or that you wont do something, you hold yourself to it. Your word is your bond. If you cant do that then you really aren't worth much.   Next we move on to trust. So what is trust? Well to put it simply trust is a combination of honesty and actions. At least thats a very simply put version of what it is really. Without trust you can't build any kind of real foundation for anything. That applies to any kind of relationship and not just anything in the realm of BDSM. That applies to friendships and work relationships just as much as personal and romantic relationships. Without trust you can't ever really let yourself go in any situation. You are always on guard. Without trust nothing will work in the long term, it will all be just a superficial flash in the pan.   Last we come to genuine effort. You can have honesty and trust, but it wont mean much of anything unless a person is willing to put forth genuine effort. You can have all of the perfect components and get absolutely nowhere if only one person is putting forth any effort or if one person is only putting forth minimal effort. We all understand that everyone has a life, we are all busy, we all have things going on, we get that. All I'm saying is don't claim to want something if you aren't willing to put forth the effort in actually pursuing or developing it. Maybe you don't put in the effort because you are scared, or any number of 100 different reasons, who knows. What I do know is how absolutely disheartening it can be when someone tells you over and over again that they want something with you and then they just never show up. If you want it, then you have to put forth the effort. Actual genuine effort. And yes that may mean taking time out of your day doing other things that you normally do like watching tiktoks or whatever other superficial thing it is that you spend most of your time doing. When you tell someone repeatedly that you want something with them, but also that you never have time for them its difficult but most people will still make an effort. When they later find out that you actually spend hours a day on social media not actually doing anything and you are still claiming that you don't have enough time for them thats a giant slap in the face. Learn how to prioritize what is important if these are things that you actually want and stop playing with the people that do actually want them if you don't.   Honesty, trust, and genuine effort. In my opinion, I don't feel like those things are too much to ask, at least not to start with. Maybe I'm wrong, who knows. I've been known to be a little old fashioned in my values in that sort of way. Maybe I'm no longer with the times. If thats the case then so be it I guess. I have a feeling that I'm not the only one that thinks the way I do though. Here is to hoping that I'm not. 

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

  Thought Cleansing Ritual    I intend it start using this ritual in all its waking hours, slave.  Keeping it from dysfunctional thinking is very important to Me, slave.  Negative self involved thinking will make the slave unhappy, maybe even miserable.  is still has freedom of choice, however, it should try the thought cleansing ritual long enough to begin to feel the results.  So, keep the rubber band on.  Snap it as soon as it realizes it is engaged in self involved negative thinking.  I suggest it make a copy of    it should feel free to ask questions about the ritual as it practices correcting its thinking.

I am dumbfounded by the number of female submissive, on this site, who in an act of straight out dominance insist on integrating a core component of the vanilla lifestyle into the lifestyle developed from the writings of the Marquis de Sade. Especially, when that vanilla component is the antithesis of The Marquis' work and why he theorized women were too inhibited to wantonly explore their complete sexual response. De Sade observed that emotional love was like a drug (turns out to be oxytocin) that wore off and eventually left the woman disenchanted as her resistance to the hormone built up and the man’s efforts to re-create the first dose becomes more and more difficult. To the point, that eventually, the man quits trying and seeks out a woman who will fuck him like his wife did initially and validate his efforts. So now, the women has a legitimate reason to look elsewhere for that dose of that initial oxytocin. Which only happens a few times in each relationship, and if it happens, it’s always happens in the beginning. And, the more she gets of it (oxytocin) the more immune she becomes to it’s affect. This means, that by building on a foundation of emotional love, women are essentially setting a time bomb underneath the relationships entire foundation, as well as inhibiting their own sexual being.

At the beginning of a relationship I try to keep surprises to a minimum. So I’ve written a short description of how I would spank the first time I did so. I do not spank really hard as the pleasure is over far too soon. I spank firmly and slowly. I call it a ‘Cumulative Dozen’. The first time you will have dressed as I instruct and will stand whilst I tell you why you are being spanked, it might just be for the pure enjoyment of doing so. You will bend over the back of a chair and I will lift your skirt, if needed I will hold you in place between my thigh and my left hand. The first spank will land on your far cheek, then one on your near cheek. I will then change sides and spank each cheek twice. Then change sides and spank each cheek three times, and so on until I decide to stop, or I’ve reached a dozen per side. Each cheek of your bottom could have received 78 spanks by this time. You will then be told to stand facing into the corner, holding your skirt above your waist and forbidden to touch your bottom. After a short wait you will bend over again, your panties will be removed, your legs parted and I will repeat the spanking. If you struggle you will be put over my knee and have your arm folded into the small of your back. By this time your bottom will be red and sore so the spanks will seem much harder than they actually are.  By the time a dozen is reached this time you will might want the spanking to stop. However if you have struggled too much, or clenched your bottom muscles too often I may decide to continue to 13, 14 or perhaps 15. One finished you will stand in the corner again, forbidden to touch your red bottom that you will keep on display until I tell you can move. If I have collared you the process will vary, if you would like to know how then just ask.

              Pop That: Unpacking the Brat, Bimbo, and Babygirl Archetypes in Lightskinkeisha’s Anthem some people would look at this song called pop that by the rapper lightskinkeisha as just a ratchet trashy song and move on from there. it is ratchet, but there's more to the picture going on here if you choose to see it.   if you look at the artist lightskinkeisha as a little girl or babygirl this song no longer becomes just a trashy ratchet fun song, but an anthem for an identity within the lifestyle. an anthem of a brat.   the song itself is bombastic and dance y and very bubblegum gritty. but if you take the song and put it through a transpose app or use a tool to transpose it and make the pitch of her voice higher and the speed of the song faster, it transforms it even into another identity if you choose to see...the bimbo.   and so we get the three way combo with a simple song pop that...   babygirl   bimbo   brat   the great thing too is you can look at it individually from each of these lenses, or you can work on seeing it through two at a time, or you can look at it with all three.   people sometimes forget that while someone can be a babygirl that is also a bimbo and a brat, that just because you are a brat it doesn't mean that you are a bimbo, and that some bimbos are also little girls too. i personally don't really live in this world most of the time. but sometimes i have a bit of a brat behavior to me behind the keyboard as the writer. but i like to write about various sides of what the identity of a little girl is. and when i consume media, i see the different sides of what a babygirl is, even if it's not directly relatable to me.   because this is a fun silly pop bop there isn't much to decipher from lyrics wise. while i use esoteric and spiritual references for pop media i don't pull things out of thin air just for the content. however, there are some stanzas' i'd like to focus on.   Big Bank Beisha, bitch Tre Trax, I think we got one, haha It's Trax season bruh   Throw it back, watch me throw it back Got my Daisy Dukes on, I don't know how to act Walk up in the building, make them niggas spend a bag Ho, I been it, that's why you bitches really mad, hold on   when it's a song that is over the top the themes are going to be over the top. one might be initially put off at the focus on her getting men to spend lots of money on her but if you reframe it in the bimbo/brat perspective it makes more sense. she's an exaggerated version of femininity, she's talking about the guy in an exaggerated version of masculinity. and if you see it in a brat frame it's also her testing her boundaries with the guy. the entire rambunctiousness is all about how far can she go before getting 'caught'. how much can she push before it's too much. how wild can she be before she tips it over and breaks it. i see these less about a materialism, and less about superficialness and more about brashness, boundaries, bodaciousness, and crass. especially in a closed relationship it's seeing how smart can you get before you consensually get punished, smacked, talked back to, reprimanded.   I'ma pop that, I'ma pop that (you better fuck it up) I'ma pop that, I'ma pop that (you better fuck it up) I'ma pop that, I'ma pop that (you better fuck it up) Fuck it up, bitch Fuck it up, bitch   I'ma throw that ass back and shake it in a circle (damn) Got your man lookin', yeah, he like the way I work it He gon' blow some racks on me because he know it's worth it (blow it) Body snatched with a face to match, call me perfect Daisy Dukes on, bend it over like Ms. Parker (hey Ms. Parker) Pretty redbone, bitch, I'm badder than a toddler Drop it to the floor and make 'em spend their last dollar All this milk that I'm shakin' make the boys wanna holler   while you could say that lightskinkeisha's reference to badder than a toddler is randomized if you look at her bigger pieces of work it makes sense why when this comes out i squeal with joy. it's a reference of being seen. it's an aesthetic, it's a insider's throwback to if you know you know. she has many songs that reference daddy for the male partner she sings about. and she often references the dynamics of the songs with a power dynamic power scale going on there. an uneven power balance by choice where it's not an equal relationship.   Throw it back, watch me throw it back Got my Daisy Dukes on, I don't know how to act Walk up in the building, make them niggas spend a bag Ho, I been it, that's why you bitches really mad, hold on   I'ma pop that,   I'ma pop that (you better fuck it up) I'ma pop that, I'ma pop that (you better fuck it up) I'ma pop that, I'ma pop that (you better fuck it up) Fuck it up, bitch Fuck it up, bitch   Booty, make it bounce, I'ma drop it (drop it) Shake it so fast, I can't stop it (stop it) Make him wanna hit it like a Bop It (twist it) Bust it wide open, I'ma pop it   I'ma look back at it while I shake it on his lap (lap) Got a big ole booty, you can give that shit some dap My pussy taste like Fiji while your pussy taste like tap (Fiji) When he slap that booty, bitch, it's gonna bounce back (haha)   Throw it back, watch me throw it back Got my Daisy Dukes on, I don't know how to act Walk up in the building, make them niggas spend a bag Ho, I been it, that's why you bitches really mad, hold on   I'ma pop that, I'ma pop that (you better fuck it up) I'ma pop that, I'ma pop that (you better fuck it up) I'ma pop that, I'ma pop that (you better fuck it up) Fuck it up, bitch Fuck it up, bitch   I'ma pop that, I'ma pop that (you better fuck it up) I'ma pop that, I'ma pop that (you better fuck it u

That Moment when You one day saw A Black Raven hopping on Your GrandParents' Front Lawn so You went to check it, it kept hopping away from You & made it to & through The ChainLink Fence but not before You noticed It Was Missing Its Right Wing & Right Leg.     🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯     #MeanViciousPitBullsAcrossTheStreet?

I've been into BDSM D/s for more years that I care to count. You'd find me to be a bit outdoorsy, I own a boat.. enjoy fishing, being outside and all that offers. At the same time, I consider myself well read.. a CNNaholic. .. (liberal politics, for what that's worth to you).. and I have a well worn library card. As a Dominant, it is among my joys to be able to stimulate a submissive mind.. to help conjure new ideas.. new feelings... I like to be creative. I'm not as much an analyzer, as I am a decision maker. Not that I'm quick to jump to a conclusion.. but.. I'm decisive. I tend to not waiver or vascillate. Over the years, I've considered myself a Master .. a Dominant.. and, sometimes, a Daddy. I like all three, and have learned much about myself. I'd welcome an opportunity to correspond with you about mutual interests.Thanks.

As I'm sitting here thoroughly enjoying Metallica Monday on WMMR, it occurs to me to mention something else about my thought process. (See, I told you it was all about me ) In the past, it was common to see "If you favorite me without messaging me first, I will block you" on profiles.  Unfortunately, I'm not particularly quick off the cuff. I turn things over in my mind and rewrite several times before my fingers ever touch a keyboard. One of my solutions to that is to favorite a profile, then let my introduction simmer for a few days so that I can stand out from the inevitable avalanche. At least, standing out as more than another "On Ur KnEeS, bIcH" type is the idea. So that's that. By the way, wasn't The Inevitable Avalanche an obscure X-Men character from the 90's?

I want to roleplay as a cheerleader. You command me to cheerlead for you as you play a sport in front of a crowd.  However before I go out there you force me to wear clamps on my nipples, embrassing panties and stick a dildo in my pussy. As I try to cheer, you turn on the vibrator in the dildo and make me drip my juices while making it impossible for me to cheer properly Then when you lose you take me to the locker room, tell me I lost because of my useless cheer leading, while taking the dildo and pumping it in my.pussy while against a locker You then take out your cock and slowly pull out the dildo, but then give me no tike.to.rest as you shove your cock in me. You take out your frustrations on me while im in bliss while holding my pompoms, and cheering your cock. Your teammates then come in looking defeated and as they see us they join in to get their frustration out. The entire team then take their cocks and shower me in their juices while I wave my pompoms and my cheerleading out turns from red to white. You then put me back in your sports bag while im in estacy and say that you're going back to train me again so the team doesnt lose again.

“The Lesson in the Red Chair – Part 3: Verbal Edging” T.L. Duncan He knelt in front of the red chair, shoulders tight, breath uneven, hands locked behind his back like that was the only thing stopping him from falling apart. And honestly? It probably was. I stayed behind him for a moment, letting silence claw at the edges of his self-control. Then I moved — not touching him — just stepping close enough for my presence to wrap around him like a velvet noose. “You’re trembling,” I said quietly. His exhale stuttered. “I’m not even touching you, and you’re already at the edge, aren’t you?” “Yes, Ma’am… I— I think so.” “You think?” I echoed with a soft laugh. “Oh no, sweetheart. You’re not thinking anything. You’re reacting.” He moaned under his breath — that small, broken sound a submissive makes when they’ve lost the ability to lie to themselves. I circled him slowly, deliberately, letting nothing but my voice tether him in place. “You know what I want?” I whispered. “I want to watch you come undone without a single finger laid on you.” His breath hitched as if he’d been struck. “That’s impossible,” he whispered. I leaned down, letting my lips come close to his ear without touching it. “Then why,” I murmured, “are you already right there?” His entire body shook. Good. I stepped in front of him, lowering myself into the red chair like a queen taking her rightful throne. He kept his eyes down, not daring to look. “Show me your face,” I commanded. He lifted it slowly — flushed cheeks, parted lips, pupils blown wide with need. “You’re sensitive,” I said, voice dipping into velvet dominance. “You’re needy. You’re desperate. And because I said nothing more than a whisper in your ear…” I paused, letting it sink in. “…you’re already fighting not to beg.” He swallowed hard. “Are you?” I asked. “Yes, Ma’am,” he confessed, almost choking on the truth. “Good. Then listen carefully.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, letting my voice soften into a dark, seductive purr. “You’re going to hover right at the brink for me. Not from touch. Not from permission. But because your body responds to my voice more than it responds to your own will.” His breath trembled — fast, shaky, frantic. “You feel it, don’t you? That pull right behind your hips?” He nodded. “That ache low in your stomach?” “Yes, Ma’am…” “That tightening right at the base of your spine?” His moan gave me the answer long before his words could. “That’s mine,” I whispered. “That reaction belongs to me.” He whimpered — quiet, helpless, undone. “Now breathe for me,” I instructed. He took a shaky breath in. “Slower.” He obeyed. “Good boy.” His knees wobbled. “One more,” I said. “Nice and slow.” He inhaled deeply — too deeply — and his whole body twitched. “There it is,” I murmured. “Right before your body tries to give you relief.” He let out a desperate noise. “Don’t you dare,” I warned, voice dropping to a threat that melted into his bones. “You don’t come. You don’t twitch. You don’t even think about release unless I say so.” His head fell forward as if the weight of that command alone nearly toppled him. I took his chin and lifted it again — slow, controlled, claiming. “Look at me when I ruin you with nothing but my words.” He obeyed. Barely. “Good,” I whispered. “Because now I’m going to talk you right to the edge… and keep you trembling on it until the only thing left in your world is my voice telling you no.” His lips parted. His breath broke. He was right there. And I hadn’t touched him once. He was trembling so hard his breath came in little broken fragments, his hands still locked behind his back, his eyes wide and fixed on me like I’d become the only anchor he had left. Good. He needed to be that undone for what came next. “Hands behind your back,” I said softly. “Don’t let them move.” “Yes… Ma’am…” “Now listen carefully,” I continued, settling deeper into the red chair. “You’re going to hold the position I tell you. Exactly. No shaking out your limbs, no shifting, no chasing comfort. Service is discipline, not relief.” He swallowed hard. He knew what that meant. He knew his body was already too unstable to make this easy. I smiled. “Present.” He immediately widened his knees, straightened his back, lifted his chest, and locked his gaze just below my chin — the perfect kneeling position. But his breath shivered, rattling through the tension. “Better,” I murmured. “But bring your shoulders back and open your throat.” He obeyed. His neck stretched beautifully when he lifted his chin, exposing everything from clavicle to pulse point. Vulnerable. Trusting. Swaying slightly from the lingering edge I’d whispered him into. “You’re still trembling,” I observed. “I… can’t help it, Ma’am…” I tilted my head with cool amusement. “You can. And you will. Hold your posture.” He tried. Gods, he tried — his whole body fighting the urge to fold forward. I let him struggle for a long moment before I said: “Now lower your gaze to the floor… but keep your head high. No collapsing.”