Today I had a meet and greet with a man who was:   local within my preferred age range available for a publicly acknowledged relationship interested in some of the same significant kinks that I am cuter than his photos   The conversation flowed well. This seems promising.

I have a confession. I met an odd Greek guy from this site. I dumped him or he let me down and I did not take his offer to remain friends. First date he was amazing was in shock how real he was. Crashing around mine he was ok in bed but snored and really snored. Had a fantasticallly large cock and I am annoyed I did not tie him up. His cock felt, warm and pulsating and I felt fulfilled and I remember tilting my neck back and relasing hot breathing after every grind. I just recall being in sexual purgatory, being dominant but enjoying anal domination, I think the Switchy side allowed the moment to happen. He was reckless with condoms which is why I felt in the bin with him. But now and again I wish he had now NOT cocked up because I would be probably be typing my odd sexual experimental ecounters with him. I liked him, I really liked him but I was so hurt that he was reckless with protection. Not to mention AFTER sex he mentioned his trip to Africa - I am west indian Carribean and all I kept thinking is have you lost your mind you experiement in a country with a high level of minimal medicla support are you insane.  My mind spun, realising this sexy Greek guy with self- esteem issues parading as a switch on collar space may be a high risk individual who should go to the first GUM he can find. I work in a clinical setting and assist HIV patients so this is a big NO NO. I meet every day people who have trusted the wrong person, or have congential issues so passed on from familly or met people who have fallen on real hard times and the world has honestly chewed them up and spat them out and the whole reckless with condoms hit a large nerve. Now and again I reflect on how I enjoyed the snogging, I enjoyed being sexually open and it drives me a little loopy our chapter lasted 2 encounters. Omg, his tongue in on my clit, his tongue in my mouth, his tonue on my arse hole his tongue on my legs and thighs, his tongue on my nipples, his tongue on my belly button, his tongue on my neck - Fuck me! I am also still pissed he brought Alidi food and demanded I buy him steak the little shit but I honestly did like his good side just not his entitled side. Do people really deserve a second chance. He is probably just messaging other women and finding his way into their accommdation for a free overnight stay he is Greek after all. I actually liked him, annoyed by his snoring.  Honestly his snoring was bad if the Walking Dead actually happens he would have to go for survival, his snoring was that bad.  The Walking dead will hear him a mile away.  Honestlly you would have put a pillow over his face to save yourself from the zombies it was that bad. It annoys me while I feel weak I have this back flash of remembering how his tongue felt all over me and remembering the sounds of his moaning and remembering how silky his hair felt when I pulled on it during a climax. Weird, Weird, weird - maybe I will admit defeat I have lost the plot!

The sun shining subtly on a sideof this sin is like a sound in my insidesthat shimmer with silence.Silence that strain to see the stars.And soon this season will shift away,and my sadness will slither southboundwith these strenuous sufferings.I may bask in the sun,but those stars sing my song.Someone may scoff at this small bird,but I dare souls to reveal their sub scrip tions.I might be seized in a straightjacketand my sex deprived, my song stolen,and my stimulation snuffed.But this sum is still greater than most dull lives.This is how a songbird thrives.But lo, this is no ordinary songbird.This is a phoenix, singing its pleasurebehind a mask of silence,and setting aflame her significancein favor for ashes.~ dirtydarling

The Weight of Three Minutes: Continued I do not move quickly. I have never needed to. I circle him the way I circled him earlier, when the tea was still cooling on the obsidian table and the correction had not yet taken its shape. He tracks me without turning his head, feeling my presence move around him the way you feel a change in light, knowing without seeing. This too I have built in him. This particular sensitivity to where I am in a room, to the quality of my attention when it lands on him, to the difference between my stillness that is simply stillness and my stillness that is preparation. I stop behind him. I let the silence hold for a moment, long enough to feel it settle into his shoulders, into the careful architecture of his maintained posture. His breathing is controlled. He is working for that control and I can hear the effort underneath it, the slight and deliberate evenness of someone who has decided composure is the one thing left available to him and is holding it with both hands. "You ruined my moment of peace," I told him, and I made sure he heard every word, felt the shape of my disappointment. "So now, you will provide the entertainment." I released his chin and sat back, beginning to unbutton my blouse with deliberate, unhurried movements. The pearl buttons slipped free one by one, the fabric parting to reveal what I wore beneath - sheer black lace that left nothing truly hidden, everything offered and yet withheld at my discretion. I shrugged the blouse from my shoulders and let it fall behind me, uncaring where it landed. "Expose them," I ordered, and I watched the conflict play across his features. The desire to touch warring with the knowledge that he had not been granted permission, only command. His hands rose, trembling slightly as they found the edges of my bra. He pushed the lace down with careful, reverent movements, revealing my breasts to the cool air of the room. I felt the immediate response of my nipples tightening, the subtle shift in my own arousal at being displayed, at being seen so completely while he remained bound by my rules. I leaned back slightly, presenting myself to him with deliberate cruelty, close enough that he could smell my perfume, feel the warmth radiating from my skin, see every detail of my arousal. But not close enough to touch. Not without permission he had not yet earned. "Warm them," I instructed, my voice dropping to something softer, more dangerous. "With your breath. Only your breath. Hands behind your back." He obeyed with the desperate precision of someone who knew the cost of failure. His hands found each other behind him, clasping tight as though the restraint were physical rather than commanded. He leaned forward, close enough now that I could feel the ghost of his exhalation against my skin, the careful warmth of each controlled breath directed across my nipples. I watched him struggle, the way his jaw tightened with the effort of restraint, the way his eyes kept darting between my face and my breasts, searching for any sign that he might be permitted more. His arousal was unmistakable now, visible in the strain of his posture, the hunger in his gaze that he could not fully disguise. I let him continue until I could feel my own wetness gathering, until the tease had sharpened into something that required resolution. Then I shifted forward abruptly, closing the distance he had been forbidden to cross, pressing my breast against his parted lips with deliberate force. He made a sound, something between surprise and desperate relief, but I denied him even this small satisfaction. I held him there, my nipple resting against his closed lips, using his mouth as nothing more than a cushion, a warm surface for my own pleasure. He tried to part his lips, to taste, to suck, and I pulled back just enough to deny him, then pressed forward again with the same cruel restraint. "You made the tea too strong," I reminded him, my voice steady despite the arousal coiling tighter in my belly. "So you can be my cup holder. Nothing more." I shifted my grip to the back of his head, my fingers threading through his hair with controlled pressure, and pulled his face forward into the valley of my breasts. I held him there, my skin pressed against his mouth and nose, feeling the desperate rhythm of his breath hot and trapped against my cleavage. He struggled slightly, instinctive panic at the restriction, the need to breathe and I tightened my grip just enough to remind him that even this was at my discretion. "Stay," I commanded, and felt him still, surrendering to the constriction, accepting that his comfort was irrelevant to my pleasure. I held him there longer than necessary, feeling the subtle shifts in his body, the tension in his shoulders, the controlled shallowness of his breaths, the desperate patience of someone who knew that any complaint would only extend his punishment. The power of it thrilled through me, sharpening my arousal to something almost painful, a heavy heat between my thighs that demanded attention. I released him finally, letting him gasp against my skin, feeling the desperate gratitude in the way his hands clenched behind his back, still obedient, still restrained. I leaned back enough to meet his eyes, watching the dazed hunger there, the submission that had settled deeper than before. "Unzip my skirt," I ordered, my voice rougher now, the command firm. "Slowly." (TBC)  

From time to time I am asked what I'm looking for. I haven't specified in my profile, and from what I'm told my description doesn't really fit in around here. Nor does my writing. I'm going to talk about the collective you, not specifically you, dear reader. Clearly you are the exception. I have been here long enough to see that most people fit into boxes. The fantasy life they won't ever live because they are afraid or established or stuck. The fantasy life they won't ever live because they aren't successful with relationships in their real lives so they look for extremes here to counter that. The exploiting for sex and excitement. The genuine living this life out in the world and here to meet like minded people. The watchers.  Here's the unpopular part, remember that you like me. I think we're all messed up to some degree and that's why we're here instead of talking to someone face to face. This isn't the place for emotionally healthy people. This is that dive bar on the shady side of town you hope no one sees you walk into that's full of regret but it makes you forget for a while. And I'm in here, too. I'm not looking for someone to take me home. I just want to swap stories and laughter. I don't think what I'm really looking for is here, but in the moment I'm all for the entertainment when an interesting conversation heads my way. Everything good starts with a conversation, even if it doesn't turn out the way you hoped. I'm happy to be pleasantly surprised, but I fully expect to walk out of this bar alone. 

Limits.. No online only, must progress to real time and hopefully 24 7.No pro Doms. Paying money to my Dom or Master for the privilege of being his is ridiculous.No blood, needles, knives, fireplay, brown showers, or pimping out. No STDs, no kneeling.. on account of bad knees, which actually upsets me greatly that i cannot do this. No children or under 18 years old, my own children are Completely off limits.. there is NO grey area on this. i am not pansexual, bisexual, bi curious, or a lesbian.. i have no interest in being sexual with another woman. However, should my master ask this of me, i would try my best to comply.There may be more to add.Interests.. Being restrained, discipline, guidance, micro management.. if possible with my prospective, being spanked. Possibly more to add later.

Why I don't want to have a sexual relationship with a domme... I've been here since it was called CollarMe, not Collarspace.  A long, long time.    I'm not a shlub.  I'm in reasonably good shape, take care of myself, can articulate my thoughts and treat everyone with respect.  So it's been relatively easy for me to meet dominants and I've met several over the years.  Unless it was a one-time meeting for specific scene play, every relationship I've had that started here ended up being entirely sexual in a "might as well be vanilla" fashion with no or next to no domination.   Once I sleep with you, you won't dominate me in any serious way if you ever intended to in the first place.  Or if you do, it will be "30 shades of yawn".  I have that situation going on right now with a domme I met on Fetlife.  Oh, the sex is amazing, but if I just wanted sex, I would join a dating app and I could have it every night of the week with a much wider selection of partners.   I want to be throroughly humiliated, subjugated and degraded in (as I say in my profile) some very specific ways. That's not something you're going to be able to do to me if we're having an intimate relationship.  Trust me.  Once those actions and the associated feelings are involved, you won't be capable of treating me the way I want to be treated.  I need someone who can see me for what I want to be, which is a means to an end for them.  I need someone who understands the concept of "mutually beneficial relationship" but can separate that from a sexual relationship.  What happens if your vehicle has a problem?  You take it to a mechanic.  You don't need to have a loving relationship with the mechanic to get the vehicle repaired.  You bring in the vehicle, he repairs it, you take care of him and go on with the rest of your day.  That's the extent of the relationship and it's fine.  Everyone gets what they want.  I think a lot of dominants on this site who genuinely have some hardcore dominant tendencies that delve into the sadistic side are trying to find everything in one person, and that's a shame, because it's a two way street.  Certainly not all kinks are acceptable to all people so not all dommes are compatible with all subs (and even if they were, we all have our aesthetic preferences) but for those who really want to put someone in their place, that will be better and far more thoroughly accomplished if that place isn't also in bed.  

"Switch"? ~ What it Means Pertaining to Me  I am not "a Domme" or "a sub", and definitely not a slave. I am a free woman with a generally dominant personality, who lives by Gorean principles and philosophies in real life, and also engages in BDSM activities. I tend to be "toppy" toward those on the more submissive end of the continuum, though I do usually at least defer to free men, and will conditionally submit to those I deem worthy of such. Apparently, the "switch" moniker is very confusing to some people, so I will go into detail here about what it does - and doesn't - mean, in my case. We'll start with the "doesn'ts", since those seem to be the most oft misunderstood. "Switch" does NOT mean:   I go back and forth from free to slave. It's a BDSM activity preference - not an indication of status. I am free. Period. Submitting to certain men or enjoying bottoming for some activities does not make me "a sub". It just means I enjoy a variety of activities, and that I am a woman who embraces natural order, so tend to show submissive traits in the presence of strong, dominant, free men, despite my mostly dominant personality. I will do/be/play whatever role you are seeking I'm not a fetish dispenser! Do not treat me like one. my role within any specific D/s dynamic is flexible It isn't. The boss is the boss, and stays the boss. The FC/sub/beta/slave/whatever s-type obeys. I "switch" between being/identifying as dominant or  submissive depending on my mood, the day, the phase of the moon, or any other whims.  I do not.  I am simply who and what I am. I relate to others depending on their place on the spectrum of dominance and submission as compared to mine, and, as appropriate, their status or rank as compared to mine. "Switch DOES mean (for me)  I enjoy both "topping" and "bottoming" in BDSM activities/scenes, regardless of D/s involvement (or lack thereof) at various times and with different people.  I respond in different ways to different people or types of people - Some people trip the dominant trigger, some trip the submission trigger, and some people do neither. That's just the way I'm wired. Telling me what I "should" do, or trying to demand, cajole, whine, bitch, or otherwise manipulate me into relating to you in your desired manner will backfire. Badly!  For a more in-depth look at the topic... The word, "switch", for me, is only a label for convenience. It doesn't encapsulate who or what I AM. I am a strong woman with a dominant personality and submissive tendencies. I believe in the natural order of things (more on that in a future post), and that D/s is not a clear cut, either/or sort of thing. Rather, dominance and submission are character traits on a continuum, which vary from person to person, with every person falling somewhere on the scale, creating somewhat of a hierarchy.  That means that a single person may be submissive or subordinate to some, whilst outranking or being dominant to others, at the same time.   It was recently compared by someone in a discussion to that of a wolf pack. I tend to agree with that allegory.  A pack will have an alpha male and, generally, an alpha female. The alpha female is the boss bitch, and she is dominant over the rest of the pack, but, she is still submissive to the alpha male, with whom the buck stops. She is still very much free to do as she wishes, and no one had best mess with her unless they are ready and willing to attempt to fight her, and potentially her mate, but she yields to him, because it is how they are biologically wired. The same is true, I believe, with humans. Another comparison is that to serving in the Armed Forces. A Drill Instructor is God to the recruits in their platoon, but if an Officer is on deck, that same Sgt. (or whatever) damn well better snap to attention and salute along with those recruits, and the C.O. (Commanding Officer) merits same from all of the aforementioned, going on up the chain of command right up to the Commandant, and then the Commander in Chief himself.  In neither of those comparisons, does an individual bounce between two or more separate "roles". They occupy their given role, and interact with others and the rest of the world accordingly, depending on those others' respective roles. They don't have to transition from one "mindset" to another, because they know their place in the larger scheme of things, and everything just flows naturally from there.  It is simply a fact that there are more than two "ranks" in life, and in nature. I will not separate out my dominant and submissive traits into separate "personas". They are not. I am me. I am a whole, integrated, complete person, with many different facets. I choose to embrace that. Neither will I "dumb down", pretend to be less than, submit, or pretend to submit to anyone, simply by virtue of their gender, status, or because they claim a certain title or position. I will start out being respectful to others, and will defer, to a degree, and maintain a submissive attitude with free men as long as they don't give me reason to do otherwise. From there, they will either earn my respect, and the added deference that may accompany it, or they will earn... something less, and I will do my best to at least remain civil, so long as they can avoid pushing me too far. Do not mistake a respectful demeanor, good manners, polite deference, or knowing my place in the natural order of things for outright submission. There is a distinct difference, and making assumptions is an unwise idea.

How long does it take to inspect a piece of meat? I will start this little entry to My Journal with a quote from My writing about the first meeting with a prospective slave property, “Inspection may take just a few minutes. How long does it take to inspect a piece of meat?” This sentence was intended to address what I hope to find in a slave’s mentality. I want a slave to approach its possible future life as a piece of property as though it were on the auction block. When it is on the block, what ever trauma it experienced in the process of ending up naked on display available to the highest bidder, is not on evidence. Such trauma, or in the case of My inspection, is irrelevant to the ongoing process of slave acquisition. What I care about is the slave’s sacrifice to be exposed to My inspection with hope, but, maybe without expectation that it will become My property. Much like the slave on the auction block, to be viewed and passed by, rejected, by many and bid on by few up to gaining residence with a previously unknown Owner. A word about rejection. (Forgive My digression.) Many slaves that are into humiliation as an element fueling their need to become ‘less than’ have discovered rejection as an incredibly powerful humiliation and, therefore, a delicious element in the humiliation paradigm they inhabit. Others fear even the thought of rejection as the ultimate sanction from a Superior. Rejection bights deep and hurts in a long lasting fashion for many slaves. Some slaves think rejection is the worst form of punishment. The thing is, when I wrote the ‘piece of meat’ comment I did not expect that I would reject a prospective property at one look. The comment was more allegorical of the feeling a slave may have of being exposed on auction than actually running the risk of being immediately rejected. And then it, the piece of meat inspection and rejection, happened. I have inspected many slaves. I have delved into their mouths for teeth and brain for thinking. I use exhaustive questioning at times, but, always with the idea that this particular ‘meat’ would be what I am looking for. But the most recent inspection was different. My first look at the prospect caused Me to utter, “it is an ugly fucker, isn’t it?” Brutal and ‘unfair,’ might be the assessment of a casual observer. However, it was a truth spoken by Me to engender a response from the slave that would tell Me much about its attitude. The response it gave, “yes, Master,” was encouraging to Me. Nevertheless, My desire to own this particular piece of chattel went down hill from that instant on. I had picked it up at the airport. Driving to a restaurant for the initial part of the inspection, I always do the first face to face to face in a public place, I kept glancing at it. Each glance made Me feel more ill at ease. Until, I gave up on the restaurant idea and pulled to the side of the road. Looking it squarely in its eyes, I told it there was no way I want it and that I was taking it back to the airport. Yes, something happened inside of Me. I am not able to describe it other than it was the opposite of ‘love at first sight.’ Yes, it did not take that long to look at a piece of meat and reject it. Yes, I am a sadist. However, I am not sadistic without bounds. I am not attracted to killing or snuff fantasies. Nor, I am interested in severing limbs or causing bodily injury that might require anything but most minimal medical attention. With this ‘piece of meat’ experience I have found a new limit to My sadism. I did not enjoy rejecting it. Actually, I felt a slight tinge of remorse later when thinking about what My behavior. So, it turns out I have psychological bounds as well as physical to My sadism. Any thoughts, even negative, the reader may have on My little incident would be appreciated.    

Just adding a journal entry to expound a little on my ideal relationship. Perhaps entries with more of my thoughts will attract the right girl and prevent being pigeonholed as a certain type of man, at least by those willing (and able, lol) to invest some time reading. I would charactize myself as a very empathetic human-being. I am caring of other's feelings (at least of those that warrant such respect) and very mannerly toward women. This nature initially steered me toward being a DaddyDom. I also have no children of my own to dote over so one could possibly infer all manner of psychology there, if they wished to, heh. Anyhow...not all my thoughts and desires are of sweetness and over the years have certainly grown darker yet. Being physically rough has always been exciting. Someone who is willing to explore the darker depths of humiliation and subjugation has gained growing interest now. Some days a chained up fuck-hole of a slave, others my sweet little girl, or an obedient cherished pet. I do also want an actual partner that can laugh, have fun, preferably has some intellect and some worthy input on life decisions. A real man can actually be humble enough to accept input and advice from others. I seek the girl that can embody all those roles. The psych of cuckquean play holds a huge interest too. Although, in the cold reality of day to day life, monogamy with my mate would be the norm. Since just like any good D/s relationship in general, most of the excitement lays in the mental build of the ideas, and that any actual play with another girl would be rare considering that I have grown only more discerning in my growing age. Plus, I do not take such play lightly. I am very willing to invest the time, care, and love to build the connection and trust that is inherent in an ongoing fulfilling, and hopefully 'rest of my life' relationship, since that is what I seek. The girl or woman that can give of herself so selflessly to her trusted Owner, is one that I would adore all the more. It is with great irony that in my experience thus far, women that were not invested in a relationship (like early on in our dating) were willing to do such acts (like a 3-some) but once they became emotionally invested, jealousy sets in and they became unwilling to give in this way. Oh yes, believe me, I fully understand the fears that cause those particular inhabitions to manifest but it is utterly counterproductive to withhold one of the gifts that would only cause me to cherish and hold onto her yet more tenaciously. Anyway, not just threesomes, but in general, where I want to go further with my girl as the bond strengthens, I have experienced that their kinkiness only wanes. This has caused such frustration and discontent for me. FFS, where is My good girl?!

I'd also like to add that when I'm not in a tpe relationship and I'm just looking to play with someone for fun, most of this list doesn't matter. That just gets down to simple negotiation about what you want to do and what your safe words are. My list of qualities are for relationships only. As a submissive, you have every right to make a list of qualities that you're looking for in a dominant. If they don't fit what you're looking for, no matter how attractive or engaging they are, you need to keep looking. It's worth it to find what you need.   There are plenty of people out there who will be a good fit. There's nothing wrong with being picky and getting what you want.

I seek someone that is looking for more than kink, is ok with a poly household. Someone who seeks to develop a deeper emotional relationship. This has the possibility of becoming a 24/7 TPE M/s Dynamic over time if we are compatible. I seek a non-smoking slave. It is a hard limit of mine. If you are a smoker and have a deep desire to stop, we can talk about how that could happen. Talking about limits, I want to first know what your hard limits are. You must know mine. Because what you won’t do is just as or more important than what you want to do. If you have a hard limit that is something I require to be fulfilled in this dynamic then we will not be compatible. Just as if you need something to be fulfilled in this dynamic that is listed as my hard limit. If we agree on the hard limits the rest is icing on the cake. I prefer someone local to the Hampton Roads community but my local search has not gone well over the years. Therefore, I have not closed the door on those who are not local to the Hampton Roads area. If you contact me and are not local you only have one chance to make a good first impression and catch my interest. Also be prepared to make a zoom call and make a drive to just have a vanilla meeting at least once or twice to see if there is a connection. I do not seek a live in slave at this time. If you are not local you will still need to find your own place if we find we are compatible. Your fantasy of completely naked service 24/7 is not going to happen here. The qualities I seek in a s-type are honesty, trustworthy, loyalty, respectful, patience, dependability, smart, has high integrity, morals and values that match my own, consistent, organized, knows the value of being on time, and a good communicator. I prefer masculine men who choose to serve me because they want to relinquish their power to someone they admire and trust to lead them, not the beta worm who thinks they are a worthless worm. Nothing is more exciting than a man choosing to kneel at my feet and offering all he is to me to use in the way I desire. I prefer those who value their submission more than those who think they are worthless.  I look for those who take time to take care of themselves as I also watch what I eat and try to maintain myself physically. If you are not quite where you WANT to be and are not opposed to bettering yourself we may still be a match in the beginning. Your effort will determine if the relationship continues. I look for someone who desires to be my ultimate fantasy and will do whatever it takes to achieve that. I need someone who will do whatever needs to be done in the moment to help me accomplish the things I need or want done. Experience is a plus, as is being a masochist, but with desire and the right mindset anything is possible. I usually prefer those a bit younger than myself but I do not close the door to a fit older silver fox either.  (send a picture with your message if you wish to catch my attention faster) IF you are in a relationship with someone else and hiding this side of yourself or cheating, do not bother. I am no ones dirty little secret. I prefer a sub with a bit of experience and understanding in who they are and what it is they seek. I am not opposed to working with someone with less experience if they have the right mindset. If you are really conflicted about your kink, while I respect your desire to try things out, you need to seek some assistance on settling these issues before you message me. I agree each slave is unique and each dynamic is tailored to those particular people. But each dom has things that they like across the board no matter the slave. Every slave has their own set of wants, needs, limits and likes, its all about communication and getting to know each other. I prefer someone comfortable in their sexuality and I look for someone either pansexual or bi-sexual for my own personal fantasies. I seek someone interested in chastity both mental and physical. I like tease and denial. Sexual frustration is a game I want to experience more of. As I said above I love control and alot of it. I also expect complete transparency but I also give transparency.  Some things I might expect from those who are mine while they are are not physically with me: 24-7 location sharing home security camera access bath room use control Alcohol consumpution control Workout/fitness accoutability good morning and good night messages Bedtime schedule if needed Daily pics Asking permission for things you want to do. Clothing chosen for you Telling you what cologne to wear Daily or weekly journal  What elso do would you want to give up control of?     

this is my dream This is not a fantasy. This is the ache beneath my ribs— the lullaby I’ve hummed to the stars since I first learned to wait. I have waited with my heart open like soft hands, through silence, through stalling, through the almosts that never quite stayed. I dream of a man who is not just Daddy in name, but Daddy in soul— the kind who meets me at the door with arms that feel like Sunday morning. Where I kneel, not in performance, but in reverence— because I know I am held. Because I know I am safe. I want to kiss his feet every day— on the good days, with laughter between us, on the sad days, when the world is heavy, on the angry days, when we tremble but choose not to run. Not out of duty, but devotion. I will pray over him. Not because he needs saving— but because I need to witness his peace, his purpose, his path made light. Because loving him is my quiet altar. I don’t want a scene. I want a sanctuary. I want someone who learns my rhythm and holds my chaos like something holy. To be kissed on the forehead because I am more than pretty— I am precious. To be told "good girl" in a voice that knows I am doing my best, not just being obedient. To not have to explain why I cry after sweetness, why soft love undoes me, why I tremble when someone finally stays. I’m not waiting to be played with. I’m waiting to be kept.

 It is so sad that an honest to God true Dom/Master with over 50 years in the lifestyle would be on most every sub/slave's wish list. I can be gentle for those just learning, medium for the ones with some experience and Sadistic to those in need of a very hard and prisoner experience. I am a bit of everything to whom it is need for.   Yes as all Dom/Masters my word is my bond to me if I can not be honest or truthful then I should not be here. For those who are Dom/Master in name only before you engage with a sub/slave. You should take every advantage of all those of us who have experience so you can learn. You never talk to a potential sub/slave as you own them as until they willingly give you the honored gift of their submission, you will never own them. This is fact and writen in Iron. That gift is their's to give to whom ever they choose and it is not done lightly. There has to be total trust that you as their Dom/Master will never abuse that gift. Those of you after only sex that is not what this site is about. It is a serious lifestyle steeped jn traditions and rules of conduct. The fact that some of you think it is a game are deceiving yourself and others see it. This lifestyle should never be taken lightly nor used to play games with. The sub/slave is not a toy it is a concept made true by a human being that lives breathes and thinks as well as has feelings that we as Don/Master need to see and think how to co epically add this life to our needs and desires. That comes from trust and a love to make the Dom/Master whole. 

People ask me how I met my owners with all the fakes and players who are online. The following is my story. So you know, Master James had a massive stroked and passed away this year. The details are in my journal.Now, before we start, I am happily ownedI searched here and ALTcom for five years finding fakes, etc A friend of my was an INSEX model in those bdsm videos She told me to check out DomConDomCon is a twice annual BDSM convention The cities vary from year to yearAnyway, I went to the one in Atlanta and was looking around Fakes and liars dont seem to go to real conventionsAnyway, I was a single woman trying to get a table at a crowded restaurant at a huge convention Simply put, they didnt want to seat a single when they were turning tables of two or more A couple who had been in line behind me came to the hostess desk and changed their request to three people The lady smiled and asked me to join themGreat dinner, great conversation Three weeks later I sold all of my possessions in Vail, Colorado and moved to serve them in VermontWe have been happily living as Master Mistress slave and last November fifth was our eleventh anniversary as Master Mistress and slaveSo, keep the faith and consider going to a real convention You will be amazed at how many real people there actually areBest to you in your search,slave janet

Lately I wake up in the middle of the night and the puppy is snuggled right up to my side. Tonight she had pushed her face into the crook of my neck. I love how much she loves me.  Someone recently asked me for clarification on something in my profile, that if he was to assume the responsibility, what was it that I was responsible for and how would it affect his ability to assume responsibilty? In all this time no one has asked me that. It's a brilliant question. I needed to think about it because my initial reaction was to create a laundry list of what I think I contribute, things like loyalty, honesty, snuggles, nurturing, etc. And then I paused. Those are all things that I do contribute for sure, but it doesn't account for what the other person needs from me, especially to function as person in charge. I will absolutely be and do all of the things I say are my part. And figure out how to be and do what he needs added to my part. Give and take. Relationships take work. Snuggles are the easy part. 

Honesty Would I trust the word of an addict? No, of course not. I would trust an addict will be true to its addiction and use reason, including deception, to maintain its drug supply. But, one might say, we are not addicts here. We are into Domination and submission. We have fetishes. Not drug use. Well, here is the thing about addiction. My body does not care where the drug it wants comes from. Like if I were into sticking needles in my body to deliver any one of many legal or illegal drugs my body would not care about legal niceties. Any old drug source would work. A drug that works inside the body is almost always one the body creates naturally. The needle merely delivers higher concentration or more frequently than my body can provide. In other words, there are basically only two delivery systems. One from outside the body and one from inside. Well, how about stimulating the body to create its own drug with out the use of a needle. We do that all the time. Not infrequently referred to as satisfying emotional needs. Serotonin, adrenalin and oxytocin to name a few. Can one be addicted to the internally created drugs? Well, that would explain things like infatuation and love. In fact addiction is used by nature to help insure the survival of the species. Adults must attach, or become addicted, to offspring in order to insure the progeny survive and become, hopefully, useful members of society.  How about long distance runners? What kind of high do you suppose they are chasing? What happens when one is ‘addicted’ to sub space? All the hallmarks of addiction are present. Increasing stimulation, or altering tolerance, of the feeling of submission both in intensity and frequency is needed to achieve ever deeper and more desirable sub space. Withdrawal occurs when the stimulation is not available. What stimulates? How about humiliation? But, most prevalent, masturbation and fantasy are the ‘needle’ that causes the body to deliver the desired result. Now a rational person would know without any reminder from me that fantasy is not truth or reality. But, the subspace addict tends, in an increasing fashion, to live in the fantasy. Fantasy, because of the social sanctions and false ‘sex images’ delivered by ones environment (more about social influence below). An outside observer might well say the afflicted person is lying to itself. Maybe. The subspace addict must live to some degree, greater for some; less for others, in a real world. You know, wife, kids, boss, minister, parents, siblings and most painfully of all a world steeped in bias, prejudice, beliefs and simplistic thinking. How does one do that? Why the subspace addict becomes adept at presenting a, hopefully, believable facade. But, the inner self is crying out for its drug. So, the addict lives in internal conflict. That of between what it is and what it thinks it should be. That of trying to resolve reasonable needs of real world with the emotion of inner needs. Good luck. Actually, emotion always wins if the contest prize is about serenity. There is no serenity as long as the emotional needs are not met. Good luck. But, this much too long essay is titled ‘honesty.’ Why is all the above relative to honesty? Well, as a Dominant I search for a submissive, actually I search as an Owner for slave property. Anyway, the prospective property lie to me. They are so conflicted that they get tangled up in their minds about all the overwhelming reality their fantasy does not consider. They say one thing, but, are unable to deliver when reality bites.  I require a slave property show up in person for an initial ‘inspection’ before I get mired in explanations examples and details of life as My property. As a practical matter, if I engaged each and every ‘slave’ that contacted me in their fantasy or in their fear or in their inner conflict, I would have no time left in the day to live a life. The slave must conquer its fears of real life consequences and physically commit to an action: that is show up. Many say they will, but, fail to show up. Did they lie to me? Not in my book. They were honest to their ‘addict.’ They just lost their ongoing battle with their accommodation to the ‘real’ world. They will probably go forward in their life, steeped in conflict, with thoughts of what if and what could have been and self recriminations. In other words no serenity. Do I think less of them for not showing up? No. They are flapping around like a recently landed fish dying on the dock. I pity them. I wish I could do more to help them deal with their inner conflict.  I do try.

profiles take far too long to update on here, so here is what would be my updated profile...    Friendly notice:  *Please read before messaging - it’ll save us both time :)*    These are just *my* preferences, no offence intended.    - Age range **29-45** -  **NO** interest in joining an existing couple/dynamic -  **NO** interest in married/partnered up men - **NO** interest in online/cyber relationships  - **NO** interest in one off meets  - **NO** interest in switching  - **PLEASE** do **NOT** send me dick pics or request any nudes from me   The Vanilla Stuff:   I am 26 years old and I live alone in a sleepy little village in Oxfordshire. I currently work part time. I enjoy spending my free time socialising with my friends/family, going for long country walks, swimming, dining out and weekends away. I passed my driving test earlier in the year so I am always taking myself on adventures. I am lucky enough to be well travelled and have been on some amazing holidays to beautiful countries. I love cooking and baking (I make a mean cookie). I used to work for a local radio station so I have a strong passion for music… anything 70’s or 80’s. I don’t watch much TV but I do have a slight obsession with the BBC series ‘Inside No. 9’ (if you’ve never seen it, you’re in for a treat!)    I am very calm, patient, honest, understanding and I like to think a caring person. I always try to see the best in people, and will always do what I can to help and support others. I like to have a laugh, and would say I have a somewhat dry and at times dark sense of humour.    Now is probably a good time to mention that... **I am autistic**. Please don't let this put you off. I’d like to make it clear that being autistic does not hold me back in life. I am able to work, I live alone, I drive, and I lead a fairly “normal” life. For me it mostly means that I struggle in some social situations, especially when meeting new people, or going to new unfamiliar places - although I always try to push myself and overcome these social barriers. I don’t let being autistic hold me back or dominate (the irony) my life. If you’d like to know more then feel free to ask me any questions. I’ve written a couple of things **(see below)** which may be helpful.    - [A guide for potential Doms ](https://fetlife.com/users/15225326/posts/10736910) - [Autism, kink and me ](https://fetlife.com/users/15225326/posts/10736903)   I am very much a ‘plain Jane’. I don’t cover myself in make-up, fake tan, and I have never used fillers. I am more comfortable in long dress tops and leggings than overly revealing clothing. I am 5’3, curvy, have shoulder length auburn hair, hazel eyes, mostly wear glasses, and have very pale skin.     The Kinky Stuff:   For as long as I can remember I have always been interested in the idea of BDSM and being submissive, even before I knew what BDSM was I found myself having thoughts of wanting to be tied up, humiliated, degraded, hurt, and used and abused during sex. All my previous relationships had been very vanilla, so I never had a chance to explore my submissive side until a few years ago when I began seeing an older guy. He was not a Dom, but he was kinky as fuck… he would restrain me, gag and blindfold me, use canes, floggers and riding crops on me, and have rougher sex with me - to date he’s the only guy to ever make me cum! Since then I have craved nothing more than to explore my submissive side fully within a D/s or M/s dynamic.    My kinks include: *impact play, breath play, restraints, edge play, humiliation, degradation, face slapping, nipple torture, blindfolds, gags, punishments, praise, orgasm control/denial, hair pulling, rough sex, TPE, CNC and much, much more **(see my fetish list at the bottom of my profile).*** Safe words and aftercare are super important and non negotiable.    I am at a point now in my life where I am very happy and settled. I feel ready to start looking for a Dom/Master who I can go on a BDSM journey with. I no longer have any interest in finding a purely vanilla relationship. So… I am looking for an experienced Dom with a dark/sadistic streak who would be willing to take his time to train and guide me on this journey at a slow and steady pace. I realise that my wants from a dynamic probably mean I am more of a slave than a sub...I’m looking for a Master/Dom who over time I can **fully** submit to - in and out of the bedroom. A Dom who has a majority of control over my life, eg - full sexual control, control over my appearance, over my body and mind, over day to day activities etc. ideally - TPE eventually. A dynamic with rules which if broken result in punishments. A dynamic where my sole purpose is to fulfil the needs of my Dom. I crave nothing more than to be owned. To be the property of a Dom.   I am looking for **long term and regular,** with the end goal to be to eventually live together. I’m **not** looking for a dynamic where a Dom barks orders at me, cuts me off from the outside world and keeps me locked in his basement all day, every day. But where I can look after the house, prepare meals, do all the cleaning and laundry etc. what some may refer to as ‘1950’s living’. (I’d still be happy to remain working and help toward bills if that was agreed upon.) For me this ins't just about having rough sex and a bit of kinky fun, it means much more than that to me... maybe my autism plays a part in that, the want and need for structure and routine in life...   I prefer guys who are older **(29-45)**, who take good care of themselves, are respectful, caring and are drama free. I have no issues if you have children but I do **NOT** want children of my own.      End:   If you're interested then please feel free to message me. I have quite a few writings on my profile about myself, my (limited) previous kinky experiences, fantasies and information about my autism, so please take a look. I never respond to instant sex chat/stories or dick pics.    Ideally I’d prefer it if you can host or we meet in hotels to begin with - due to my autism I do not feel comfortable even having my friends and family over at my house, it's my sanctuary/safe space. I drive and enjoy driving, so distance is not a huge issue for me.    Unfortunately it’s got to the stage where I will just ignore messages from anybody that is outside of my preferred age range, or married, seeking an online dynamic or ONS, etc… I am simply not interested and far too many people just don’t respect this, so please do not be offended if I don’t respond, but that’s probably why.    As so many people don't tend to bother to read profiles on here, please let me know you have done so while messaging me! I hope to hear from you!  ~ M x   

My Master naturally controls my sex life. I'm not allowed to plesure myself without His permission; interestingly, He prefers that I don't wear my chastity cage: He says He wants me to build my self control and deny myself willingly for Him.   I am proud I am able to do this not just because it means I'm doing what I'm told but because it's a way of showing Him how much He mans in my life. When W/we speak on Skype though, and I know He is watching me (even though Master chooses not to tun on His camera), then He allows me to dip my hand into my panties and play with myself. That positive reinforcement between meetings with my Master and sexual pleasure is very powerful at many levels. At a purely physical level the association is fairly clear, but I also like the psychological dimension - the idea that I only get pleasure when He gets pleasure (from watching me). It's so helpful in weaning me away from my old fake life in which I thought only of my own pleasures and accepting my new slave life where my pleasures count for nothing. Only Master matters.    

Open thought: I am into meeting up with one or two saine kinky men, have a good time and then move on. Again I have met 2 European men from this site so far.  Sex to them was great but for me was only ok. I prefer to keep things casual, be open to dating or be open to having a level of intimacy where we create a safe space and say this is our sexual refuge and take it from there. I get messages from men who initiate they want to stay with me longterm and use the word "marriage" and talk about they have had 3 longterm relationships in the life - snore. So this means I have to commit to someone I don't get to know first? That to me is rude.  It means you don't respect starting a true relationship.  It means you hope to get a full invite into my flat. You want to travel from France and Romania and stay with me and then monitor who I am with and how I keep to myself and then, what use my place and then come and go as you like?   What you need is Air BnB, I will look for someone who I can get to know, who I can trust but I don't have to be bound to them when I find out they are not for me. I found out the last 2 were not for me the fish can go back into the sea and I can put my net back in the pond and move on.

A fantasy of mine..."My internal world is rich with wicked fantasies, and I know the feeling of a tortured existence when those fantasies and desires are not fulfilled. If you’re looking for a girl who is willing and eager to open herself up to your darkest desires and most erotic dreams, then please read further.  Have you ever had a desire to see an eager, willing thing serve your every whim? Or fantasised about being tied up and chastised, told you’re a naughty boy whilst your mistress tells you just how she ought to punish you? Or perhaps you may have thought about a night out for some discreet public play, toy in you or your partner whilst the other holds the remote? Whatever your fantasy, I’d like to make it a reality.  I derive immense enjoyment from fulfilling another’s needs and desires, thus, their interests become my own. So, if you are yet to take that first step into the delicious world of sex and needing a friendly smile and eager attitude to illuminate the path, have a fantasy that you are dying to explore, or have an interest in exploring various kinks to discern what tickles your tail feather, I’m offering my body and oh-so excited mind to bring those desires to fruition.  So boys and girls, if you feel our interest may align please message me for, what could be, a wild and delicious ride. "

Someone actually quite a challenge to WOW them about consent (not on cs).... I decided to write most of my response here, even though done of it is mentioned in my profile.   Wow you with consent... I love that challenge. So first things first, you can't have fun when anxiety and fear are the prevailing emotions.  Does that mean a person can't struggle against bonds or their patterned who is ignore than please of 'no' or begging for mercy and still find pleasure?  Sure they can, in the form of a safe word.  They can be simple as red, yellow, and green light... Red light being stop, yellow light, don't get any more intense... Or if the room is wiring about the intensity, can ask, sand if she say green light, she's good, keep going.   A bdsm relationship, whether it is in bed only, or 24/7 is still a 50-50 relationship.  Just because the sun lens the doom some of her fifty, doesn't mean she can't take some of all of it back at any time.  He wants to try anal, she doesn't, "I'm the Dom, so I can" is an EPIC of FAILURE of understanding basic [healthy] bdsm... Also might violate a law or two whether or not either of them know it.     Communication is also key.  Set aside time (such as a dinner) to discuss what they like it don't like.  Sometimes telling a person about what they didn't like right after or right before can kill the mood or self confidence... However during Sunday night dinner, a planned conversation, "her that thing when you turned me sides ways, don't do that for more than a minute at a time, but that thing you did when you held my head on the pillow... Don't ever not do that again..."   He laughs, "sure, when your are going down... Teeth are not sexy."     Moving on..   I actually love protocol training early in a relationship.  It's almost an if-then style relationship while learning each other's kinks: If you do this, I do that... Or if I do this, you do that.  For example, if she puts a collar on, he is not allowed to use her real name, just one of the pet names that agreed upon earlier, it could be cute like 'penny' because of the penguin on the T-shirt she wore the first time they met, or it could be something more aggressive such as 'slut,' if she agreed on that at first.  A system of controls to keep them both satisfied.          

When punishing a girl, a discerning owner will not restrain her. The purpose of punishment is to teach a lesson and that lesson is usually one of helping her learn control. Sometimes of what she says, other times of what she does or doesnt do. She has to learn a better way, to understand the needs of the one she serves, and to behave accordingly. When I punish it is with a cane. The girl is bent over something like a bed or desk or chair, and allowed to get set into a position. My preferred place for punishment is over a desk, arms either outstretched in front or to the sides, legs spread but not excessively, and the girl's rear exposed. Then I use chalk to mark where her hands and feet are and we begin. The rules are simple. No outbursts or the count starts over. No lifting hands or feet or the count starts over. If the chalk lines are excessively smudged, the count starts over. She counts. She may ask permission for an interlude, but if she does so without good reason then the count starts again. If she cannot control herself when it is wholly to her benefit to do so, then perhaps this is not the world for her. If she can, then the punishment serves its purpose, she atones and life moves on to more pleasurable things. Either way, his will be done should be the mantra on every girls lips.

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.  

We get email from people often enough that I'm going to clarify something. This does not apply to every Dom/Domme on CS, but something to consider before emailing a Dom or Domme. We understand if you wish to address us by a title. But before you use one that might get you in trouble with who you are speaking to, ASK for their desired form of address. This seems obvious when you consider all who wish to be addressed by their desired gender but missed when addressing a Dominant. MissRhyme prefers to be addressed as Miss or MissD. Not Goddess or Mistress. She does not like (understandably) the connotations of those terms. I prefer to be addressed as Sir or Master depending on the preferred service of the submissive. Not Daddy, for the same reason. ViperXTC and MissRhyme  

To clarify my position. I'm seeking a serious Master/Dom for a deep meaningful relationship built on genuine connection and commitment. If your interests are solely focused on fetishes and kinks, without deeper emotional and mental involvement, we're not a true match. I desire a partner who inherently needs to lead and control; someone for whom this dynamic is authentic and needs the feeling of D/s in the background. My ideal is a lifestyle rooted in the nature of HoH, TiH and TPE. It's the natural path for me. Take my hand. I will eagerly follow :) The information below is added here because this site has glitched my weight, showing it in kgs, instead of lbs. Size UK12-14 (not US). 10st 5lbs. Thanks 

Hey, guys. Just so you know, this ain't my first rodeo. I was experimenting with S&M activities long before I was legal, or had actual sex. And so I call BULLSHIT on your "D/s is mainly mental" blah, blah, blah. A solid D/s relationship is a 3 legged stool of mind, body, and spirit. Each leg is equally important, and MUST be equally developed in order for there to be balance and harmony in the power exchange relationship. This is not optional, and you don't get to change the D/s laws of the universe just because you live 3000 miles away, or are trapped in a boring marriage. Mind. BODY. Spirit. For a masochist, one of these things MUST take place in person. So regular face to face meets are NOT optional. Smacking myself online while you watch does NOT count. And if you live more than 100 miles away, I'm not driving, or flying, to your place every week. It is what it is.

Another day, another thought... It is a hot one in NYC - 92 degrees F/33 degrees C. Surely there needs to be some ice cream. As the owner savours hers under the shade of the umbrella on the lounge chair. The near naked pet dutifully eats its share from her feet. She is in a breezy tube top summer dress with tropical print. It is only wearing metal cuffs around its wrists and ankles, a collar that connaspects to a anal hook, and a cock cage with chains tethered to the owner's lounge chair. It is licking and sucking fast to make sure that not one bit of that ice cream runs off of the owner's white polished toes or small feet as the consequences of wasting the owner's kindness will be dire. Then... Wouldn't you like to know. ;-) 

I'm surprised to see this site still exists. I've enjoyed BDSM lifestyle for numerous years. I'm not some mindless or spinelss door mate. I'm educated, a career professional and will always tempt you to be the best and most erotic Domiant possible. That my submissive purpose and desire. I had a play partner for nearly a years but went to work on a project in Europe for a while and lost a lot of US connections and friends. Earlier this year I crossed path with a Dominant female and it was intoxicating. She used and enjoyed me as her boy slut. All those submissive cravings and desires flooded my mind and body as she had unrestricted and unlimited use of me in very demanding and erotic ways. It made me realize how much I want and have missed this lifestyle. I've been used, shared and enjoyed as an obedient, submissive fuck toy. I love having my limits pushed and being used long and hard. This lifestle is best when the chemistry is free and mentally unrestricted. Trust that the Domme individual has the maturity level to forster an energetic and positive experience. I think a Domimant individual is at their best when not limited and mentally unrestricted to explore freely with a submissive. Trust is paramount.   

“The Lesson in the Red Chair – Part II: Temperature Chains” T.L. Duncan He knelt perfectly still in front of the red chair, hands behind his back, shoulders trembling just enough for me to know he was alive inside the anticipation. Good. He should tremble. Temperature chains demand obedience. I stepped behind him and let the room settle into silence. A long silence. Long enough that he started to doubt what he’d feel first. Then I touched the back of his neck with warm oil. He inhaled sharply. The oil wasn’t hot—just body-warm. Comforting. Seductive. A touch that coaxed him into trust before breaking it. “My warmth first,” I murmured. I smoothed the oil over the top of his shoulders, slow strokes that lulled him into lowering his guard. His breath lengthened. His muscles softened. His head tilted forward in surrender. Good. Perfect, actually. Now I changed the temperature. The ice cube was newly unwrapped, frosty and dripping between my fingers. He didn’t hear it. He didn’t expect it. And that made it exquisite. I pressed it to the same spot I had just warmed. He jerked like a current ran through him—but he stayed kneeling. “Good boy,” I said quietly. The praise landed deep. I traced the ice down the line of his spine, a slow, cruel descent. He shuddered uncontrollably, head dropping forward, breath catching on every inch. Then I wiped the trail dry with a heated cloth—soft, warm, soothing. His whole body swayed, caught between two opposites with no ability to prepare for either. “That’s the point of temperature chains,” I whispered. “Your body stops guessing. It just reacts.” He exhaled a broken sound—half moan, half plea. I circled him, letting the warm cloth ghost over his chest, then replaced it with the ice again, pressing it to the hollow of his throat. He gasped and froze. “Don’t move,” I warned. He didn’t. He barely breathed. I let the ice melt in a slow path over his skin, then chased the trail with my warm palm. Cold. Warm. Cold. Warm. His head fell back against my thigh. “You’re unraveling beautifully,” I said, cupping the side of his face gently—warm palm, cold fingertips. He whimpered at the contrast. Now that he was soft and undone, the next sequence would hit harder. I dipped my fingers in the warm oil again, then traced a circle over his sternum. He relaxed. And just as the comfort settled— I lifted the chilled metal spoon. He didn’t see it. He didn’t hear it. He only felt the shock when it touched the same oiled spot. He choked on a moan. His hands flexed behind his back. His body bowed toward me. “Hold your position,” I commanded, voice velvet and steel at once. He froze, trembling uncontrollably now, his body shaking with a desperate cocktail of cold, warmth, need, and obedience. I moved the spoon lower, then chased it immediately with warmed fingertips. His breath stuttered. His knees nearly buckled. “Your body can’t predict me anymore,” I said softly into his ear. “That’s what surrender feels like.” He nodded, barely able to speak. “Good,” I whispered. “Because your final temperature test will break what’s left of your control.” I stepped away to prepare it—just out of his line of sight, just enough for the dread and desire to twist together. “Be still,” I said. “Lesson three begins now.” He was still kneeling, barely holding himself together. The temperature chains had wrecked his sense of predictability, and I could feel it in the shivers running through him. Now it was time to take the one thing he had left— his mind. I stepped behind him, deliberately quiet, until my thighs brushed the edge of his shoulders. He stiffened, waiting for the next sensation. But I gave him nothing. No touch. Just silence. Then I leaned down until my lips hovered a hair’s breadth from his ear. “Don’t look for my hands,” I whispered. “My voice is what owns you right now.” His breath hitched. Good. I let my breath warm the shell of his ear, slow and soft—not touching, just threatening the touch. He froze in place like prey that knows the predator is right behind it. “You feel that?” I murmured. “Yes… Ma’am…” “That’s not me touching you,” I said. “That’s me deciding you deserve to feel my breath.” He shuddered so hard his balance wavered. I slid one hand behind his neck—not gripping, just resting there, letting him know I could take hold at any moment—but my mouth stayed at his ear. “Your body reacts before you can think,” I whispered. “And that turns me on more than anything else.” He exhaled sharply, a small, helpless sound. I didn’t touch him yet. Instead, I let my lips barely graze the upper curve of his ear—so faint that he might have imagined it. A ghost of contact. A promise. He whimpered. Then I broke the almost-touch with a cold whisper: “Keep your hands behind your back.” “I— I am, Ma’am…” “Good. Because if you lift one finger to steady yourself, this ends.” His spine straightened in panic and obedience at the same time. Now he was mine. I brought my mouth closer, slow and controlled, until the tip of my nose brushed the soft edge of his jaw. “Do you know what I want right now?” I whispered. “No, Ma’am…”

 LRF69