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

Welcome Home, Little Princess Are you looking for a place where you can truly be yourself? We are seeking a "little girl" princess who needs a new home and a fresh start. Here, you will have your very own princess room and a sister to talk to. Our household includes a supportive Daddy Dom, a Domme, and sister in a family dedicated to helping you adjust and transition.  You’ll eventually meet your "older sister," who recently graduated and now lives and works in the city. When she visits, she may even stay in your room, as it was once hers. Her journey wasn't easy. Daddy rescued her from people who suppressed her true self, forcing her to wear masculine clothes and hide her identity. When she first arrived, she struggled with guilt and even tried to run away, but Daddy kept his promise never to let her go back. Once she felt safe, she embraced her life here, leaving all responsibilities to Daddy. She flourished—attending cosmetology school, beginning her hormonal transition, and undergoing facial refinements. Daddy took her to fetish balls and dance clubs in beautiful dresses and heels, where she made many friends. She also loved helping with our lifestyle parties. Dressed in her maid outfit, she was the star of the house; guests always flocked to the party when they knew Daddy’s girl was serving. She also cherished her training sessions, where Daddy pushed her to her limits during their "in and out" workouts. Now that she has grown up and moved into the city, her room is open and waiting for Daddy’s next little girl.

The amount of people submitting payment requests for preorders on FYF is comical. ROFL Just to be sure, Ive been sending out the necessary releases to My people enmasse so they can be prepared for all possibilities.  Honestly, ya'll have Me laughing-snorting with how serious you take Me. Its inspiring and hilarious. Onward and upward. Applying to Me is not a walk in the park.  You have to jump through the hoops I set for you and you may never understand why I do what I door how I do or when I do.  This part is not about you getting it...it is about Me getting what I want in order to assess your ability to serve Me and Mine for life. Think rabbit hole, think nude, think entirely enslaved.  Then you might come close to what I am thinking and what I am looking for. Be sane, be real, be someone who can share in a telephone conversation, be someone who can move between worlds - or decidely be an object in My menagerie - still sane & real.

Right now I have a bruise on my thigh.  I am not even sure how it happened… I think I was in a rush doing something and walked into a low table or counter or something.  I vaguely remember cussing in my head as I caught my leg on something one day, but I can’t for the life of me remember what or where.  I was looking at the bruise last night amused.  I don’t mark easily, and I don’t mark often.  It actually takes a lot to leave a mark on me, which is part of what amused me about this bruise on my leg last night.  How do I not remember how it happened?  It also made me think back to when I did look at porn, and some of the pictures I have seen on this site on peoples profiles that are simply unavoidable… The horrendous marks on people… That will never be me.  My mind left my bruise and headed more into this life, and my desperate desire for something I really don’t want at all… The absolute quandary of the actual ache in my back side for correction, and my complete and total hate for pain.  Like, I don’t secretly like pain.  I don’t like it a little.  I don’t like it in a house, I don’t like It with a mouse.  I, ladies and gentlemen, do not like pain.  Yet I fantasize about it… So, I pondered this, trying to reconcile this stupidity in my brain… Why? Why do I want it so bad it feels like a need as real as air some days?  I think the pain is simply a by-product of the rest of what I want(need).  Without it, the rest of it doesn’t work.  What do I mean by this?  Well, as anyone who has chatted with me or anyone who knows me, knows, I have a rather strong and dominate personality by nature.  My submission is totally a choice I make because it is relaxing to me.  My submission is a gift to someone special, and only to that person.  When I used to be active in public forums and known as a sub there many dominate men often believed that meant I should act submissive all the time to all dominate people there… bwahahaha!  I had come with a date I was being submissive to, not the whole crowd!   I annoyed a few people.  That’s okay, they annoyed me too.  When I give this gift of submission to someone, it is because they are giving me a gift too.  They honor me by taking care of me, keeping me safe, looking out for my best interest.  My submission to them tells them I trust them to keep this true.  If they intend to bring me my much-hated pain, then I know their intention is to better me as a person, and for this I am grateful.  So there it is, it is about the mind, not the pain.  It goes beyond this simple statement though.  The entire process, start to finish, is about what goes on in the mind.  From the game of how far can I push things, to the change in tone, body language, and eye contact from my man as he goes from my man to my Dom when I am skating the edge with my behaviors.  The unspoken communication that tells me we have that connection.  That shoots thrill through me.  Then, the mental push within me, to I stop, or push it further?  If I push, the soft to stern spoken warnings, and finally, when the last straw is broken, the declaration of punishment to come… Then the absolute torture and agony of waiting for the punishment, preparing to be punished, all up in my head.  The mental ects of it all.  That is what I crave so badly… The moment any legit pain begins, it all ends for me.  I swear, whatever I did, I am sorry, and it won’t happen again any time soon, because I seriously can’t handle the pain!  This girl is not a pain slut by any stretch of the imagination!  If you have legit fallen in love with me and you aren’t a deep sadist, my reaction to sever pain may hurt you more than it does me.  But not likely. And even after deep contemplation of all of this… I sit here aching for it all… still.  smh

I Wonder Who We Are... I often look at myself thru the eyes of my mind. Who do I **think** I am? Who do I want to be? Who am I? What am I? I wonder how many others take the time to self-reflect like this? I try to do this weekly.  Sometimes late at night as I bask in the quiet night’s arms I find my mind drifting to the day gone by. I replay the days events and scrutinize my actions at times.  TODAY, did I live my life to my best potential? The gift of life I was given is a treasure that we so often under value. It's easy to get caught up in the daily struggles that inflict us as we sometimes dredge thru the day thankful it's over.  Guilty! After all we are all human.  In a world filled with hate, selfishness, struggles and woes sometimes its all we can do not to scream. Allow a blood curling sound to exit our lungs, travel up our throats picking up momentum as it exits our lips with a shiver echoing thru the darkness to find no respite.  A primal sound that perhaps evolved from our primal ancestors to never develop or change in the millions of years gone by. Signaling our frustrations and every other imaginable negative energy that exists within us today. As we yearn to release it all allowing them to somehow be absorbed into the cosmos, never to return. A cry for help perhaps? Perhaps.  Perhaps it's just an evacuation of all that we resent exiting us hoping we can fill the vacancy with the positive. I like to think that's the case with me. But as I look around each day, looking for positive energy, from my fellow man I am left starving. Wanting to see more beauty I can absorb to act as my muse. Guiding me to be a better me as it motivates me to want to feed love back into the world.  But alas, it has become a daunting task. Disappointment abounds the empty caverns of my heart and mind. Have we become so shallow as a society that the only thing that now defines us is instant and momentary self gratification? Often at the expense of others. Is this what thousands of centuries of evolution has led us to? NAY I say! Not I today! Unable to find it readily at the hand of my two legged peers I turn to nature. I find myself being blindly led to the pasture where my four legged friends reside. I hear their whinnies as they see me approaching. Running towards me anxious to see me. Besides me walks my fury four legged best friend. My canine soul mate who has dedicated his life to unselfishly and unconditionally love me. To never leave me no matter what I do or how I treat him. He is bound for life to me. Arriving closer to the gate a thunderous echo of stampeding hooves envelopes the air. Filling my ears with its roar as it approaches closer. Standing on the lush green carpet of grass I am surrounded by these four legged majestic creatures that so easily could do me harm. My smaller companion eyeing them carefully under his protective gaze.  Wet nuzzles against my hands searching for treats. This action is common place here. All fighting for my attention as there are so many and I am only but one. The creative one among the group, finding no need to challenge the rest for the position of my hands. He quietly walks up behind me. I am made aware of his presence among the distraction as I feel rubbing against my back. His side turned head using my back as a scratching post to satisfy his itch?  No my friends that is not the self centered case of this half ton creature. He is saying, "Daddy I am here. I missed you. Where have you been?" He is most certainly not the alpha but nor is he the omega. He falls somewhere in between the alphabetically defining realm of personality letters.  Turning to let him know I acknowledge his presence with rubs I manage just a few. The other horses quickly pushing him away to look to my moving hands for what they desire. Treats and rewards to fill their already fat full bellies. Yet he stands alone a mere stones toss away watching. Reaching into my pockets I retrieve a handful of treats. Allowing the surrounding herd to acknowledge them with their keen sense of smell I toss them in the opposite direction of my inamorato who stands there with no desire to chase such petty treats. The rest of the herd now busy vying to retrieve the hand tossed delicacies he approaches me. I hold his head against me with love and affection. It is as much his fuel as it is my own. I turn to exit, followed at a respectable distance by my adoring and adored friend.  Holding it open signaling him the permission he seeks to exit the field and the others who physically resemble him. As the three of us stand there, me enjoying and soaking up the moment, I can't help but observe. Acknowledging and absorbing the actions that just took place.  My plotted journey observed and responded to. The actions and reactions as I entered. The easily manipulated distraction I created that all but one fell prey to.  His dedication to follow me outside his defined boundaries and the company of the others physically like him who have near matching DNA. His choice to leave the safety of his peers signals to me that he finds safety and comfort in my company. His trust in me that I always have and always will be his caregiver, his provider, his protector fills my now empty heart.  The many journeys we have traveled together since his birth are safely tucked away in my mind. Easily retrieved to reminisce upon when needed. As I stand there admiring this majestic creature of God before me my mind retrieves from the filing cabinet labeled with his name. Quickly sorting thru day 3 of his birth begins to play.  He is laying curled upon a stack of hay within a stall of the barn. His protective mother standing guard over him. Her ears pinned back warning anyone that intends to do him harm to stay away. Her eyes soften and ears relax as she recognizes me as the source of the sound. Carefully not to startle the sleeping foal I slowly approach. His mother content with who the human visitor is allows me safe passage.  I find myself first sitting next to him admiring his beauty. Astounded by the miracle of birth that he is. His soft breathing seen in the way the straw beneath his nose moves back and forth as he inhales and exhales so gently. Leaning in closer to touch him I look at his guardian looking down at me as if silently asking for her permission to get closer. When I see no warnings of alarm in her I move my hand gently running it across his neck.  His days old fur so soft I am jealous not to have something as comforting as this to sleep upon myself. He releases a soft sigh as if finding comfort in my loving strokes.  Now realizing that the submissive love his mother has given me extends to the trust of her new born, I inch closer. Soon I find myself laying along side his tiny body. Curled up next to him I drape an arm over him. Another soft sudden exhale of breath reaches my ears. Is he communicating his pleasure in feeling my warm body against? Is he capable of such a thought process? I lay there for what feels like hours pressed against him. Only to realize as he begins to finally stir that it’s only been 10 minutes by my watches time.   Emancipated from this world lost in head space I return the the physical by his movement.  He turns his head, in what seems to be, a search to find the source of his sighs. I softly look into his eyes hoping he can peer into my own and see the love and adoration I have for him. THAT moment etched in my mind forever more NEVER to be lost or forgotten.   Slowly he rises as if not to harm me and stands over my still prone form. I find my heart overflowing with love. If only I could find this form of love in my own breed. His mother content that no harm will befall him under my watch, complete and loyal trust bestowed upon me finds comfort in our bond to now lay down herself.  Obviously exhausted by the ritual of birth and having to provide  protection to her child. Her 1400 lb mass taking up much of the stall but careful not to invade my space. Suddenly I find myself lost in thought. Who do I think I am? Who do I want to be? Who am I? What am I? To THEM.  A brushing against my calf returns me to the world of today as the drawer filled memories are closed. In the universe of my mind I lost a momentary connection to this plane of existence.  My canine comrade standing now by my side waiting for direction. He looks at me then glances to the tack room and back at me. As if he is asking me, in the best way he knows, “Are we going for a ride?” my eyes look down at him as I rub his head. “Not today good boy. Today daddy just needed affirmation to who he is. My hearts full again. Thank you.” “Go get him and let’s go back in. Daddy has work to do.” Doing what he’s been taught to do under my caring tutelage he bounds off to bring back my blessed 4 legged gift. A simple double click from me, seeing his adopted brother heading his way, he knows its time to go back. With the look of a bowed head he walks to me as I rub his face and ears. I whisper in his ears, “Good boy.” As if content to hear these words he heads for the gate. Opening the gate I let him return to his pasture mates where he looks like just another horse. “Come on dog. Daddy has to go search for someone! “ he says as he turns to go back into the house. Because now I know who and what I am. I know what I was meant to be.

July 5th - 11th , 2023 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Applications being taken for a maid / butler You may be Trans~CD~CIS Female~CIS male , being who you are is important to Me. For all the above'categories' , adept with make-up application is a bonus, being a pain-slut is a bigger bonus !! However , being good at your role is the key. You will be there to serve Me and attend to My needs/whims/desires. There will be public outings - if this is NOT acceptable to you ~ then please do NOT apply.!  Be it for one day , an overnight stop , 2 days , 5 days , that is immaterial. If you are available then come and have fun.! No fees either way , this is NOT a pro contract it is private arrangement. You will provide your own uniform(s) , and understand High Protocol .! I have an Apartment in central Manchester for Sparkle Event 2023. I look forward to conversing with you in due course

What I desire from a D/s relationship First, I have a nesting partner. Our relationship is totally separate from what I seek, but it would be equally important to me and you must be willing to accept that I am poly, but very demisexual.   With that being said, I want 2 separate households that I will go between equally. The one I currently have and Mistress's household, 24/7, D/s, kinky household with some vanilla elements incorporated. I want a second household within 15-20 minutes of downtown Parkersburg, WV, very private, complete with dungeon, medical room, sensual play space and outdoor play areas. I envision this home to be a place to host munches/events/small parties but also very private with a vanilla facade. I would like 2-5 acres and a big sound house/farmhouse to remodel to suit my needs. This will not be immediate and a rental situation will be necessary initially with the intention of find and establishing a permanent kink home.   I prefer a sub leaning slave but I am not seeking a sub/slave that only wants 24/7 chastity. I enjoy edging, ruined orgasms, forced masterbation, post orgasm torture, etc. I am extremely sexual and want to use my submissive sexually always under my control. I am actually fairly flexible as how I want my household structure. I am equally fond of the following in no specific order:   A 1950's household A Mommy/little or middle, but I'm not into diapers, breastfeeding (I'm almost 59 and milk hasn't filled these titties in years 🙄) cribs or high chairs. However, playing with toys, structured bedtimes, structure and a firm hand, kids movies, playing at the park, amusement parks, stuffies and all things child-like I'm very open to. But I would want a sexual little/middle. A sissy submissive but understand I will NEVER use humiliation or degradation as it relates to being feminized. Any speech or play surrounding the theme that women are weak, pathetic, powerless, less than, etc. will NEVER be used! It is a privilege for me to show you the beautiful world of women and I will not tolerate this type of play. If you wish to escape your traditional alpha male role to explore your feminine side and want to walk in my shoes for a bit, that I will definitely do. I would love more males to understand how wonderful and freeing it is to be female. If you crave humiliation and degradation there are so many other ways of accomplishing this without degrading myself and women in general. A true slave with all the discipline and intensity as outlined in Ingrid Bellamare's book Owning and Training a Male Slave, however, as I've stated before, I will remove your cage to use you as I desire sexually and put back you back in chastity when I'm not using you. Also know, I have a good income but I am not independently wealthy by any means and I will not support you financially. You will need some source of income. If you work remotely from home or outside the home, second or third shift would be ideal. I would also consider a porn-based subion service as means of earning your keep.   Finally, I want an optimistic, positive, drama free and happy individual who also will accompany me on trips, attend conferences and kink events, and engage in "vanilla" activities as well. I am a whole person and want you to be as well.

    Hi, my name is Infinite Arms and I’m a masochist. I mean let’s be honest, you’ve got to be to keep attempting to navigate this shit hoping for a decent outcome.  I’m a physical masochist - being hit / given physical pain makes me happy (read very wet) but I’m also a massive emotional and psychological masochist.  The physical bit is easy enough - plenty of people will hit you with hitty things, less people with hit you with fisty things, even less people will cut you, break the occasional rib, but there are people.  The emotional and psychological masochism is the difficult part I’m finding, but my circumstances are probably a big factor in that. I’m married - we met through kink and we still do kink when life allows. But we both have other facets we indulge outside our relationship. I won’t tell you his, he can do that, but mine is very much focussed on someone being mean to me.  There are lots of levels of mean, physical pain is just one of them (a very fun one), but my masochism also leans a lot towards more emotional and psychological aspects and this is the bit I struggle to get in the extracurricular stuff.  So I prefer to play with people who are poly, or not looking for a full time relationship, because I have one of those and he’s wonderful and irreplaceable. I also don’t really like people who are doing it all behind their partners back, because that’s just hard work and it feels pretty crappy to be the one being cheated on so there’s that.  But - and here’s the unicorse poo part - I do need to have some kind of connection / dynamic / relationship for the emotional psychological stuff to be meaningful.  ification and degradation and just general worthlessness is one of my biggest kinks. And, maybe it’s just for me, but that doesn’t work if I have no level of connection with the person who’s making me that low. I like (well love to hate) to be told I can’t touch, or orgasm, in between play sessions. Admittedly I’m sometimes utterly shit at that but I’m working on it. And that doesn’t work if there’s not some sort of friendship or mutual appreciation going on.  In short, I don’t want to marry you, or have any detrimental impact on any relationship you are in. But I cannot promise I won’t be fond of you, because, for me at least, that tends to be a byproduct of having someone be mean to me in the aforementioned ways.  No real reason for this post other than a handy th

The Ocean Does Not Apologize for Its Depth   There are women who dominate and there are women who *are* dominance, the way the ocean is not something that contains water but is the water, is the depth, is the pressure and the pull and the ancient, indifferent power of something that existed long before you arrived on its shore and will exist long after you have gone. I am the second kind. This is not a role I step into. It is what I am made of, down to the cellular level, the way the ocean is made of salt and motion and the kind of patience that only belongs to things that have never once needed to hurry. You come to the shore of me with everything you are. I want you to understand what that means before you take another step. The ocean does not meet you halfway. It does not soften its edges to make the entry more comfortable. It simply is what it is, in its entirety, at full depth and full force, and what happens to you when you enter it is entirely dependent on your willingness to stop fighting the current and let the water do what water does. The people who struggle against the ocean are the ones it takes. The ones who surrender to it, who release the desperate grip of their own buoyancy and let the water take the weight, those are the ones who discover that it will hold them. That the very thing that felt like it would consume them is also, in its way, the most complete support they have ever known. This is the theology of your surrender. Not the performance of it. The real thing. I want you empty. Genuinely, completely empty, cleared of every opinion about yourself that you arrived with, every defense you have constructed across a lifetime of needing to protect something, every carefully managed presentation of who you are and what you can handle and how much you are willing to give. I want the vessel clean. Because I intend to fill it, every part of it, with something it has never held before, and there is no room for what I am bringing if you are still crowded with what you came with. Walt Whitman wrote that he contained multitudes. You, in this context, will contain precisely one thing: me. My will, my presence, my pleasure, my standard, my voice in the place where your own voice used to be the loudest thing in the room. This is not diminishment. This is the most complete thing I know how to offer another person. To be so thoroughly known and so thoroughly claimed that the boundary between your purpose and my desire becomes academic, becomes irrelevant, becomes a line so worn from crossing that it simply ceases to exist. The ocean fills every space available to it. Every crack in the rock, every hollow in the sand, every place that offers itself and every place that does not, eventually. It does not ask permission of the shoreline. It simply arrives, and it arrives completely, and it keeps arriving, tide after tide, with the patient certainty of something that has never once doubted its own nature or its own direction. That is what my dominance feels like from the inside. The certainty of water finding its level. Matthew Arnold stood on Dover Beach and heard the ocean's roar as the sound of a world that offers neither joy nor love nor light nor certitude nor peace, only the eternal note of sadness underneath everything human. But I hear it differently. I hear it as the sound of something that does not negotiate. Something that has been devouring shorelines since before language existed to describe the loss, that takes the rock and the sand and the carefully constructed walls of human certainty and makes them, over time, into nothing but new shapes of itself. The ocean does not mourn what it consumes. It simply continues. This is the quality of my dominance that I most want you to sit with: not the drama of it but the continuity. The patient, absolute, unstoppable continuation of a nature that was never going to be anything other than what it is. Give me everything. Not the generous portion. Not the carefully considered offering of the parts of yourself you have decided you can afford to lose. Everything. The parts you are proud of and the parts you are ashamed of and the parts you have never shown anyone because you were not certain they could be trusted with them. Bring all of it to the water. Let it go. Watch what I do with it. Because here is what the ocean knows that the shore does not: the surrender is the point. The emptying is not the loss. It is the preparation. The space you clear when you release everything you have been holding is exactly the space I intend to inhabit, and what I bring to fill it is larger and stranger and more sustaining than anything you were protecting by keeping yourself so carefully full of yourself. You were not built to be your own container. You were built to be mine. Kneel at the water's edge. Feel the pull of it. That pull is not danger. That pull is recognition.   I release what I was before this shore. I bring myself empty and offer that emptiness as gift. I am the hollow that her presence fills. I do not end where she begins. I am most myself when I am most completely hers. The ocean does not ask permission. Neither does she. I am grateful for both.   Go under.   She will bring you back. She always does.

Shutting people out is confusing to me. It was one of the very first coping mechanisms I learned early in life, and it worked well. I used it often. Or, you know, all the time. By the time I learned it wasn't healthy it was too late. In the spirit of self-improvement I put effort into salvaging relationships when I could push past my initial reaction of shutting out, which wasn't often. Much more difficult for me and against every instinct I had. Those weren't always done in a healthy or whole way, either. Ignoring things instead of addressing them, having the other person react in the opposite way of what was expected. I struggled a lot with the what and the how. I still do. Only now, circling back to shutting people out, it's acceptable and encouraged in some instances. When the hell did that happen? How do you determine when it's the right move? After years of trying to undo the shutout it feels wrong. Right, but wrong. Like I've given up. Like I'm falling back on an isolating coping mechanism. Facts are facts and they may stack the deck for motive, but I can't help but feel like I'm the emotionally stunted person using her go-to move. I think about this a lot. Is it right? Or is it just easy? 

DISAPPOINTED-  There is a difference between presence and performance. When we meet in public, energy speaks louder than words, and truth has a way of revealing itself without effort. I pay attention to alignment — between actions and intentions, between spoken language and written expression, between who you present yourself to be and who you actually are. Lately, something feels off. The version of you I encounter in person does not fully match the one you portray through your writing. Words can be crafted, polished, and arranged to create an impression — but authenticity cannot be manufactured. It either exists, or it does not. Our recent meeting here in Folsom raised clear red flags for me. What I observed in person did not align with the image presented through your words. When behavior, tone, and presence do not match the story being told, it signals inconsistency — and inconsistency erodes trust. We live in a culture saturated with illusion — curated images, rehearsed personas, half-truths, and quiet deception both online and off. Masks have become normal. Pretending has become easier than being real. But I am not interested in illusions, performances, or carefully edited versions of truth. Transparency matters to me. Consistency matters. I value what is real, even when it is imperfect, over what is carefully constructed to appear a certain way. Facades are exhausting to maintain, and eventually they crack. When they do, truth stands on its own — calm, clear, and undeniable. I am direct, observant, and grounded in what is genuine. What you see is what you get. I do not perform, and I do not pretend. In a world full of filters and deception, I remain authentic — as real as you will find. Be real. I can see through what is not.

Doms always ask me about my libido, which, honestly, has hardly changed in decades. I've always been quick to arouse, easy to orgasm, always wet, outright sensual, and very sex positive. No, I'm not bragging, and I certainly realize I am one *very* lucky girl to be like this sexually, with nary a bump in my sexual lifetime roadmap. I'm so thankful for that!  But the rub is, no pun intended, that I have to have a connection with my lover. The longing honest erotic sexy loving trustworthy dominant to his cherished sub dynamic type of connection. I don't perform, I can't get it up (so to speak) without engagement, I belong, I attach, I become, I subsume with my guy with everything that makes us sexual beings, and of course that includes emotional, mental, and physical.  Once I feel that connection, and know from my head to toes that it is both strong and reverential, my sexuality becomes like a well tended plant, soon to flower, over and over, again and again, each time beautiful and unique. Oh, yeah, and hot af too!

advice in seeking a partner  First narrow your search to the kinky community.Dont befriend or date vanilla women.You are wasting your time and theirs.Focus on knowing your self.So many people say they are this or that and seek this or that but when confronted with the reality, change their mind or back away.This makes them look like a game playing phony.Dont go around telling women what you want and what you want from them.Use the Internet to network with face to face local kink community.Attend every function possible.Be your self.Be the person you want people to see.Only when asked, say honestly what you are seeking.Try to make friends with everyone.Not just Dominants.Being friends with an established couple opens more doors than anything else.Dont ask any Dominants to do you, or train you or use you.Dont ask if they know anyone who will do any of the above.Just be you and say you are available. Period.When you become a known and recognized member of your local community anyone interested will come to you.Offer non sexual service if ever the opportunity comes up.Foot rub back rub, maid service etc.Start small. Earn trust.Never lie.Never break a date or be late.Often people test other people with precision details.Like do something or call at a precise moment.If you cant be trusted to follow that instruction, you wont be trusted to follow any other instructions.Be clean.Be polite.Never answer back.If you dont like whats happening excuse your self from the situation without saying anything negative.

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

 Sweetdahlia