Voice Verification Unfortunately, there are many males here pretending to be females. So, before I invest more time with a 'female' at initial contact, I require at least a voice verification. In its next message to Me, either offer Me its phone number or request mine, slave. To elaborate a bit, I really do not care if My slave property is male or female. I do not care if the prospective "female" is actually a male that has made contact with Me. I understand how a slave could be so lost in its desire to feel the control of a Dominant that its imagination could take to the point of deception. To Me, that just means the prospective slave property is deeper in its need to serve than most. The best thing would be for any pretender to confess and seek atonement at the outset of the process of becoming My total slave property.

People are vastly different. So to find a single needle in 100 haystacks is seemingly an impossible feat.   Be yourself and be completely open and honest. Don't ever lie in order to find what your looking for because the lie will eventually come to the surface. .   In my opinion to be dominate is not to act or be mean to someone. It's not to hate or belittle in order to get someone to do what you want them to do.   Being self assured and dominate means to take care of and pass on knowledge.  To take someone and fulfill their lives and make them useful.    We all have a role to play in this universe. When your happy and content that means your exactly where you should be  and doing what you should be doing at that moment. So many people are on here searching ... searching but never finding or not really knowing what they are looking for. ( I'm a dom, no wait I'm a sub, no wait I'm a switch...wait wait maybe I'm a dom slave lesbian male )  When I talk about giving yourself up completely you should only ONLY do that to someone you trust and know that they have your best intention at heart. I'm not talking about a romantic relationship , that is silly to think that would happen that way over the internet. It's unrealistic and delusional .   I'm only talking to those that are looking to be owned and cared for. In turn you need to think about what you would give up to get that.

Mhhh dang' had one of the most hillarious and fun session with my new slave🤣🤣Extreme cum denial and edging..Till he started begging for mercy, he is an obedient one though...Well his pathetic cock is locked using the Cellmate 2 ... I have complete control over him, he has no means of escape, and unless i unlock it he can never get outLol am really enjoying this, he's litterally my prisoner

A few days ago I scheduled a coffee date with someone on a different kinky site. I'd accidentally sent him a "wink" when my finger slipped on his profile, which was unfortunate as he also identifies as a dominant. However, he DMed me about having submissive tendencies that he didn't mention on his profile (nothing on there about being a switch). We chatted off and on for a few days and then decided to schedule a coffee date.   He's in another city, but close enough that I wasn't too worried about his commute. He was way younger than what I was looking for, but he assured me that he wasn't worried about the age discrepancy. He wasn't commercially attractive, so I wasn't completely suspicious of his motives, but he was quite vague in direct messaging about what he was hoping for.    Having bussed over, I got there early enough to get a to-go tea and grab a table. We'd talked about getting warm beverages and going for a walk while we chatted, weather permitting. I played Pokémon Go as I waited, having multiple tasks and projects to address in the game as apparently beating Team Rocket Go Boss Giovanni wasn't enough for one day.   I experimented with ways to look up when someone came in without looking expectant. He and I had traded photos, so we pretty much knew what each other looked like. I committed to staying at least 15 minutes after our official meeting time as getting parking in that neighborhood could be tricky. We hadn't swapped phone numbers, so I checked the site periodically to see if he'd contacted me: nothing.   A PoGo raid started at 3:15pm on the dot, so I left closer to 3:25pm ... just after he sent several messages to me over the kink site about his truck giving up the ghost to the tune of $4,000 and him being so worried about it all.   Uh-huh.   It's possible that he was telling the truth and that this wasn't some really, really bad attempt at a scam. But then I remembered his reported age, the vagueness about what he was hoping for, the secret reveal that he was interested in finding a domme; and I think that maybe I dodged a bullet.   Mollena Williams-Haas once talked about gameifying putting oneself out there by awarding oneself points to being brave enough to try, pulling together the energy to be bothered, presenting oneself attractively, and - in this case - even bothering to show up. So, hey - I have more points!   And that tea was quite lovely.

Vanilla Life In my vanilla life:   Lost in the pages of spiritual gems like the Master Key System, Secret, and the wisdom-filled "The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari." I'm also captivated by the magic found in books like "The Magic of Thinking Big," "The Power of Letting Go," and the timeless "The Power of Now." On a different note, I love getting lost in the realms of romantic fiction.   Yoga and jogging are my go-to activities for staying active and centered. I've delved into the realm of Reiki, even gaining practical experience, and I've honed my massage skills from the knowledge I've gathered.   My love for adventure extends to frequent trips and hiking. I'm intrigued by hypnosis, fascinated by the idea of my mind being guided by a partner's influence.   In moments of relaxation, I'm an avid reader and practitioner of deep breathing techniques. Idle moments used to be a challenge, but I'm making strides in embracing them.   Gaming was once a significant part of my life, with a PS4 that hosts titles like Red Dead Redemption 2, GTA V, Call of Duty (Aw, MW), Wolfenstein, Hitman (from Code name 47 to Blood Money), NFS (up until Payback), Max Payne, and the list goes on.

COVID hit our community hard, and I have a few slave friends that lost their Masters.With no continuity plan in place, it is difficult for a slave. This, the House, helps address that. And it is a passion project for Myself. A way of giving back to a community that has altered My life for the better. On a personal egoic level, of course it is nice to be the Master of the House. But, it also is structured to survive My own passing and continue to care for its members. It is pan sexual in nature and can be grouped in different houses, gay, lesbian, trans, etc. as well as professional, career, orientation. There are a lot of moving parts to this. .... That said, the question is does one wish to be part of something bigger than itself. And to be owned and serve.you will be required to contribute to the home by being able to support yourself. It is a self sustaining operation.As a Master, My responsibility is to provide structure and an opportunity for the slave to serve and to be owned. Its primary service is to the Master, then its brothers and sisters, and then the House as a whole.That is what this Master offers all who come.

  Its been a year since I discovered nu-metal. It's spoken to me like no other type of music has...Like as if...I was missing something in my life. My thoughts Is interpreted through the amplifyed speakers. Then, the YouTube algorithm brought KORN in the mix and just went absolutely crunk nutty.   

This just to see what its say but I am way more than this but its was funny to try. lololol   == Results from bdsmtest.org ==  98% Rope bunny  94% Pet  93% Submissive  89% Voyeur  81% Experimentalist  79% Degradee  55% Slave  54% Exhibitionist  41% Masochist  35% Vanilla  27% Non-monogamist  5% Brat  0% Ageplayer  0% Boy/Girl 

Journal Update - November 2024 I'm Tara and I'm coming back to this site afgter having nearly given up on everything and being lost for a while. I am pre-op trans. I was on hormones, but the health scare I have took me off them for a while. I won't be able to recommence them until January 2025. If that's a problem for you I entirely understand.I've got a lot of kinky hobbies, one that some people know about me is that I have worn chastity since March 2020. I unlock once a week for shaving and cleaning. I switch between two very small devices which can go largely unnoticed under most of my wardrobe.I live 24/7 as a woman. I do have some real struggles with dysphoria, the person I see when I see myself in the mirror often doesn't match how I feel. I wish the NHS moved faster. I want to do this all right so am not taking shortcuts.I love, and I mean really LOVE bondage. Put me in cuffs and a collar and I will melt into submission. Over the next few weeks I think i am going to use the journal to share some of my past expereinces.Tara xox  

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

He opened the drawer and smiled. “So you’ve been keeping a secret.” I looked away, unable to answer. The delicate lingerie i"d hidden for years suddenly felt impossible to explain. “Put it on,” he said gently. With shaking hands, i disappeared into the closet. Minutes later, I stepped into the living room, unable to meet his eyes. Every movement made me acutely aware of the unfamiliar fabric against my skin. He didn’t laugh. Instead, he studied me quietly before saying, “You’ve imagined this moment for a long time, haven’t you?” I nodded. “Good,” he replied softly. “Tonight isn’t about hiding. It’s about finally allowing yourself to experience the fantasy you’ve kept locked away for so many years.”

  The silken ropes, a web both soft and tight, Secure your limbs in the fading light. You offer trust, a fragile, sacred thing, Awaiting the pleasure your queen will bring.   Her eyes hold fire, her smile is sharp and keen, The most intoxicating sight you've seen. She moves with purpose, confident and slow, And from a drawer, her chosen tools will grow.   The harness waits, of polished midnight black, And as she lifts it, there is no turning back. The leather sings a low and throaty sound, As she first wraps the straps securely 'round.   A deeper creak as she pulls the harness tight, A groan of leather, bending to her might. The sharp-edged click of buckle meeting tongue, The final sound before your song is sung.   It strains against her hips, a second skin, A promise of the place you've never been. The scent of leather fills the charged-up air, A musky perfume, potent and beyond compare.   She turns to you, her shadow tall and vast, This moment of surrender built to last. The silicone now cool against your heat, A strange and shocking, yet delicious, treat.   Your breath catches in a sharp, surprised gasp, As past your final, guarded line she'll pass. A world of pleasure, sharp and brand new, Unfurls inside, completely owned by you.   And in the creak of leather, in her sigh, You learn to fly, and learn to fall, and die To who you were, reborn in this new role, The willing vessel for her hungry soul.

On the Nature of Slavery — A Master’s Perspective Slavery, in its truest sense — the ownership of one human being by another — predates recorded history. For over ten thousand years, it has existed alongside the growth of civilization, woven into the story of humankind itself. But there is a vital distinction to be made: the difference between non-consensual slavery and consensual slavery. Non-consensual, involuntary slavery is a crime. It is illegal in every major nation and stands in direct opposition to the principles of human dignity. I condemn it without hesitation. Any person found to be engaged in such practice deserves the full force of the law. It is an affront not only to morality but to civilization itself. And yet, there exists another path — one that is lawful, deliberate, and chosen: consensual slavery. This is no myth. It is as real as marriage, as binding in spirit as any oath freely sworn. In the eyes of the law, the word “slave” cannot appear in a legal contract — the 13th Amendment sees to that — but the principles of slavery can be honored, so long as the arrangement is entered into by informed, willing adults. Consent is the keystone. The individual must be of sound mind, capable of understanding the depth of what they give, and willing to yield fully to the bond. In this way, rights may be waived, freedoms surrendered, not by force, but by choice. It is a reality the uninformed often deny, clinging to arguments born of ignorance or fear. They forget that people surrender rights every day — often without realizing it. The difference here is that it is done with eyes open. While some may call a monogamous, affectionate, and mutually respectful arrangement “slavery,” I do not. Such relationships, no matter how intense the play or ritual, I regard as deep Dominance and submission — not true slavery. Slavery, to me, is a state of being where one’s will is no longer one’s own, where the identity of “property” is absolute, and where the Master’s word is the axis upon which the slave’s world turns.   The law will never recognize true ownership of a human being — but within the sanctity of consensual agreement, within the walls of trust, discipline, and surrender, one can live it in spirit and in truth.

I am NOT a Pro Domme, but I use an app for texting called Telegram.  It is a free app. If you think it's a scam Look IT UP! Also, I'm not interested in games. If you are not sure if you're submissive, please don't bother contacting me. I am not intestered in "trying" to see.  I am also on Skype and fetlife.  Atomteacher for both. If you are local or willing to relocate feel free to send me a respectful message. I will NOT dominant you online, sext, role-play or watch you jerk off on Skype.  I will NOT send you pictures, videos or provide you material to masterbate to! There's plenty of porn online, use THAT not ME. I want a real person, a real D/s relationship! Please don't waste my time!    I require daily contact to properly vet you. If you are too busy to send me a text daily, then you are too busy for me. If you can watch YouTube on toilet for 20 minutes then I really think you give me that much time daily through the vetting process.      

Due to medical reasons and the fact I have loss the use of my left arm I am removing myself from the market, those that wish to keep in contact can message me by text. It been real and it been fun but can't say it's been real fun. This account will be deleted in two days

I love eating ass, rimming, pegging, prostate massage.  I LOVE cocks, the more the merrier.  A few fetishes: Natural bush (me and men) Cock worship *Raw sex, dripping of jizz Nipple suckling and biting ANR/ABF nursing fetish Edging and Tease * Because of the riskier nature of raw sex, I get tested regularly and am picky about sexual partners.  As such, I expect you to be as well.  (IUD in place so no one's getting pregnant)   THE ISSUE WITH LONG-DISTANCE... This is by NO WAY an exhaustive list, just some things to consider before you message me that you'd like to get to know me. If you live over 30 miles away, be prepared to send a message that includes addressing some of these things. Please...and thank you!! Let's talk about getting to know someone long-distance. I'm not talking about a partner that has moved, and temporarily you're needing to keep the relationship long-distance, I'm talking about establishing a new one...getting to know someone NEW that lives far away. On paper, I can understand that a great match for anyone may not be in their own city/town. And I can totally understand that many people feel that with today's technology, it is much much easier to get to know someone far away and they would be correct! With phone calls (yes just like the olden days, people still talk on the phone), with FaceTime/Skype and video chats, we can get a great sense of someone before we've met them in person! The issue for me is that I'm slightly on the demi-sexual side and so it is imperative to meet someone in person within a week or so of chatting because that's really the only way I'll be able to confidently say, "Oooo this is someone I think I would like to do stuff with naked." Clearly, this is problematic when considering someone out-of-town. Because of where I am in life as a parent (the last teen still 2 years away from college), where I am with work (small business owner that could work remotely, with a LOT of planning) and where I am with finances (enough to cover my bills, but not enough to afford to move out of state as that can cost $5-$10k easily), if you want to get to know me to possibly date and see if we might be a good kink/romantic match, you will need to address these three main concerns. How would you do that? Get creative: Offer to be extremely communicative for a week to 10 days, not just a little here and there, but a concentrated effort Spend some time on the phone with me, like in the olden days LOL If it feels right, offer to come to/near Cincinnati to have lunch/dinner and spend some quality in-person time together EXPECTING that no clothes will be removed If we have lunch/dinner and one or both of us feels meh about the other, GRACIOUSLY accept that decision and don't force anything out of guilt or obligation After that point, should we BOTH decide we'd really like to get to know each other and date/spend time together (which MUST include in-person, not just online or over the phone), be prepared to have some solutions to the issues I mentioned above in order to move forward. Some examples: "I can move to Cincinnati and rent an apartment near you for a year while we pursue each other, then move-in/get married/whatever." "I can afford to fly you to me several times a month to me during the get-to-know-you period" "If we decide to build a fabulous kinky-life together I can afford to move you here and help make sure your responsibilities with your house in Cincinnati are met" REMINDER: This is by NO WAY an exhaustive list, just some things to consider before you message me that you'd like to get to know me. If you live over 30 miles away, be prepared to send a message that includes addressing some of these things. Please...and thank you!!

Master's WritingsFoundations: The Ethics of SadismThe ethics surrounding sadomasochistic play are perhaps among the most important in all of the BDSM community. I constantly see posts from masochists searching for a "Real Sadist", someone who knows what they are doing and they can trust. And why shouldn’t they, in this realm, we are often talking about genuine pain and the potential for real harm. Yet I continue to see those who call themself by the title, who operate without a code and believe that sadism is nothing more than a license to hurt another person. Thus, the need for a code and identify the ethics behind the title.Up-front, any attempt to identify ethics must include basic standards such as:     Both parties being of minimum legal age     Both parties being competent to legally consent     All physical and mental health considerations of both parties have been made known     The nature, depth and limits on the activities have been previously agreed to by both parties     Consent of the bottom has been given to the activities discussed without any form of duress, coercion, manipulation or barter     and finally, that safewords or some form of safeguard communication is in place that stop or pause play as necessary Beyond the basics, however, I believe that the ethics of sadism must go beyond that. It must include a dedication to perfecting one's skills and knowledge of the craft long before you ever raise a cane, a commitment to know your bottom to a depth beyond normal play so that you possess a clear understanding of what they want and why they want it and an absolute mandate that the Sadist never brings their outside emotions, such as anger or stress, into a scene (if you are made at the world, no bottom should pay for that). Additionally, it must also include a dedication to maintain a constant awareness of a bottom's capacities throughout any scene.But the real point of the ethics of Sadism lies in the commitment to maintaining all of these beliefs and values during the heart of a scene. It is easy to be ethical before a scene begins, but as the tempo rises, as the pain threshold lies within reach, being ethically strong enough to not get carried away in the thrill and glory of the moment is an ever present challenge. It is there, in that moment when a Sadist must lean into their ethics and remember their responsibility for a bottom's safety, the commitments you made about the scope play, and the dedication to not get sloppy with either technique or intention. In the heat of the moment, you walk the fine line between pleasure and pain, ecstasy and injury, but responsibility requires a strong ethical core to keep your bottom safe and deliver wisely on the gift of the experience you deliver.For me it is the connection I make during play, either physical, as in touch, or verbal, as in checkups, communication and listening. Connection helps remind me my bottom is a person. A person who has placed their body and experiences in my hands. It humbles me and reminds me that without ethics, I am no better than a monster with a whip. It is the ethics of Sadism that keeps me human and allows me to call myself a sadist with a clear conscience. 

I just made chocolate chip cookies topless. Here's what happened.  I'm on a health kick (the cookies aren't for me). The other night I made lentil bolognese and it called for red wine. Just a little. I'm not a wine drinker but I do cook with it. So, smidge of wine into the pot, cork the bottle. Google tells me I only have a few days to finish the bottle, but I can freeze the wine. Pull out a small ice cube tray, pour half the bottle in, stick it in the freezer. And I learned that wine takes a lot longer to freeze than water. I should have known this but I wasn't thinking. I pulled the tray out with the amount of force you would if it were ice. It wasn't ice. Wine all down the front of my shirt. Now, I'm already in the process of making cookies so what do I do? Whip off my shirt and rinse it under cold water to try to get the stain out. Do I go upstairs to get another shirt? Stay with me here, I know I'm topless. But no, I do not. I grab an apron and tie it on. These damn cookies better be delicious. 

You know the saying, you are what you eat? I heard a variation today I like ever so much better. You are what you digest. Think about it. We, sometimes unwillingly, ingest things that are good for us and reap the nutritious benefits. We also take in those that have spiraling negative effects. And then there's corn. Yes, corn is an antioxidant and contains vitamin C, but for the most part it remains unprocessed and pointless. That's the definition of corn in this moment. Argue with me later about fiber. So, you've got your positive veggies and fruits and grains. You've got your negative chocolate ice cream. You've got corn.  What about when it comes to your words and actions? Are you filling your plate with nutritious positivity? Or are you spiraling negativity about others. About yourself. Your actions. Or is it all just corn? I find, and maybe some of you will feel the same, that I get lost if I don't have a daily agenda. Consider it the plate to put food on. No plate and you just walk around nibbling, not planning out nutrition, not balancing indulgences. I have no plate and no plan and I feel awful. It's all corn and I don't care enough about any of it to make a change. I don't want to have a corn summer. This is my reminder to build a nutritious plate every day so I ingest positivity.  Is this a little too in my head? It went in a different direction that what I was thinking. Originally the connection I made was about taking in the positivity in your surroundings and letting go of anything that doesn't serve you. Drop the corn. Only I seem to have had an epiphany somewhere in there. It could use a little more connection, but hopefully you'll figure it out. By the way, I love corn on the cob. Just not as a neutral state of being.  Someday I'm going to circle back to this philosophy and hashtag drop the corn. You heard it here first. 

Some things to think about written by Ms Rika (she writes books about femdom and the power dynamics). I don't always agree with her 100% but I enjoy her thought provoking article. Rika thoughts   Ms_Rika SOOO many conflated, fantasy-driven thoughts in one place! FLR does not mean femdom. They are different things. They MAY coincide...often times they do...but they do not necessarily have to go together. If you mean Femdom, say Femdom. Marriage is an institution that is legal, often religious, and personal - and completely independent of power dynamics. You can layer a power dynamic on ANY type of relationship, "Spouse" is just one of them. The reason to marry someone is the same whether there is a power dynamic or not and it's not a power dynamic decision. Therefore, the reasons a marriage with a power dynamic dissolves are the same as the reasons one without a power dynamic dissolves. Femdom (and FLR) does not equate to cuckolding. Cuckolding relates to cuckolding. You can be a cuckold and NOT be a Femdom relationship (or an FLR, for that matter). Sometimes cuckolding is done within a relationship - sometimes it's not. Often the man doesn't know (technically, the man doesn't know). While it is possible that some power dynamics limit sexual interaction between the couple, not all do - and power dynamics certainly DO NOT imply a reduction in sexual activity. Sexless marriages are due to people whose libidos drift - or who no longer are interested in their spouse sexually. It has nothing to do with power dynamics

 Captive Desire   The night was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the house settling. Olivia Bennett sighed, shutting her laptop with a soft click. Midnight again. She stretched, rolling the tension from her shoulders, and glanced around the empty house.   Jake was away on business. Connor was at a sleepover.   It was just her.   And then—a sound.   A soft, deliberate thud from the garage.   Her pulse spiked. She sat still, listening, waiting. The house held its breath.   Another sound—this time a scrape, like something dragging across concrete.   Her heart hammered as she stood. Probably nothing. A box falling, the wind knocking over the broom—something harmless.   Still, she grabbed her phone and padded downstairs, flicking on the hallway light. The garage door loomed ahead.   She hesitated.   Then, hand trembling, she unlocked it and stepped into the cool, dimly lit space.   The scent of motor oil and dust filled her nose. Her car sat untouched. The shelves were undisturbed. Everything looked normal.   A sigh of relief left her lips—   And then the light went out.   Darkness swallowed her.   The shift in the air was immediate.   A presence.   Her breath hitched.   Before she could move, strong arms wrapped around her, yanking her back against a hard, unyielding chest. A gloved hand clamped over her mouth, stifling her scream.   Hot breath tickled her ear.   “Shhh,” a low, masculine voice murmured. “Don’t fight it.”   Her pulse slammed against her ribs.   She struggled, kicking, thrashing—but he was too strong.   A thick cloth pressed to her mouth, something sickly sweet invading her senses. Her limbs grew heavy. The world tilted.   Darkness.   She woke to a whisper against her skin.   The air was thick, warm, carrying the scent of something rich—cologne, leather, danger.   She stirred, wrists bound above her, ankles tied to the posts of a bed—his bed.   Her breath caught.   The room was dim, candlelit, casting flickering shadows against dark wooden walls.   And then—him.   A man, clad in all black, standing at the foot of the bed. A mask hid his face, smooth and featureless, but his presence was commanding.   Powerful.   He trailed a gloved hand down her leg, slow, possessive.   “I’ve been watching you, Olivia,” he murmured. “Waiting for the right moment.”   A shiver coursed through her.   She should be terrified. She was terrified. But beneath the fear, something darker stirred. Something she didn’t want to name.   He knew.   His fingers traced the delicate lace of her nightgown, teasing along the hem.   “I wonder,” he mused, voice velvety, “how long you’ll resist before you give in.”   She swallowed hard. “I—I won’t.”   He chuckled, low and knowing. “No?”   His hand moved higher.   Her breath hitched.   Her body betrayed her.   Heat pooled in her core, a flush rising to her skin.   He leaned closer, breath fanning over her lips. “Your body says otherwise.”   She turned her face away, but he caught her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze—though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt his dominance.   “Tell me to stop,” he whispered.   She parted her lips—   But the words never came.   He hummed in approval. “That’s what I thought.”   And then his mouth was on her, claiming her.   Possessive. Insatiable.   A captor. A stranger. A master of her pleasure.   And she let him take her.   Over.   And over.   Until she forgot what it felt like to be free.  

  I wrote that word control to you yesterday and it must have gotten deep into me. I woke up this morning so fucking wet and hot! Like I was right in the middle of some Daddy's masturbation...I was on my back, legs spread, rubbing my clit and mound, thinking of Daddy being under me, his cock rubbing my lips, telling me words of his encouragement and his control, deeply feeling my sexuality himself, telling me to spank my hood, which I never do, but it felt so right this morning, so I spanked it rhythmically, then back to massaging my clit and mound, going a bit harder and deeper with each back and forth, feeling Daddy's cock getting harder, his growls and voice deepening as he and I tuned into the groove of our joined pleasure.  I started spanking myself harder now, legs further apart, imagining his cock now dripping with pre-cum, inching it's way between my labia, feeling the pressure of just the head inside me, filling me just enough so we could be connected in passion. My mind slowly turning off, becoming totally his, his toy, his Daddy's precious love, as my rubbing got more robust, my internal dialogue starting to seep out into my voice with a moan a muffled cry for Daddy, Daddy, Daddy...until I hear his knowing! His understanding! His feeling! of me being ready, reaching the point of no return, the edge of the cliff of the frenzy for becoming one with him, giving myself to him, him owning me in this incredible throbbing pulsing intimacy of letting go into more Daddy Daddy Daddy I'm going to cum...and just faintly hear yes baby girl, yes, cum for me...and then I'm over the edge, flailing a bit, squirming, moving, thrusting to get his cock into my lips so he can feel my quaking my rupture, my cunt dripping with a gush, spasming...as Daddy holds me tight, firmly, let's me fly away with pleasure, in his arms, cumming strongly, with abandonment...his, found, grounded, complete, held...

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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.  

Gabriel was Jesus.  In Daniel chapter 8 through 10 a man visits Daniel. A voice confirms that it is Gabriel in Daniel 9:21. When the man appears to Daniel again in chapter 10 it does not state that it is Gabriel but I would think the same man would continue to come to him means though he showed up twice already to Daniel. It would not be needed to state a third time that it was Gabriel. And I believe if it was another person Daniel would have been told who it was like how he was told before that the man was Gabriel that came to him in chapters 8 and 9.   In chapter 10 it states that this man's appearance has a body of beryl, face like lightning, eyes like lamps of fire, arms and feet like polished brass, and a voice like the sound of a multitude. He is in the form of a man.    In John 17:5 Jesus is praying to his father in heaven and he states that he wants to be glorified at his side with the glory he has alongside the Father that he had before the world was.    This could be why Mary didn't notice him and mistook him as the gardener and why the one disciple had to put his fingers in the holes of Jesus's hands to truly believe that it was him.    Also in John 8:58 Jesus says before Abraham was I am. He was formed before we were ever created. He created us. He is the invisible image of God but gives all the glory back to the Father as he listens to the Father and does the Father's will. He was Gabriel the mouthpiece of God.    In revelations Jesus is said to come back with his face shining like the sun, voice like the sound of many waters, feet like burnished bronze, eyes like the flame of fire, and hair as white as wool, as a Son of Man meaning a human form with a divine presence.   

I have not written a note in so long. Life has been changing so much lately. new job, different city, then another new job and another old city. Now I am on a summer sabbatical of travel through the Atlanta and Savannah areas because I find it peaceful and love both cities for different reasons.   I need a new boy. A real boy with great energy, quiet strength and a cute smile.   I want him to dance for me. I want him to cook for me and share his secret thoughts that he seems too shy to tell anyone else. I want him naked and begging for me. I want him to clean and work for me. I want him to smile for me. I want that sweetness that is calm and not weak while also not being arrogant. I want him to NOT know everything because I still do NOT. I should be the ONE who gets to decide everything but I should NOT HAVE to be the ONE who THINKS of everything.   I wonder if this is to be found anywhere? I will hope for it. You don't have to be a perfect boy to start with me, but you do have to HOPE to become one for me.

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

This is my kind of Dominance     The Equalitarian Dom: Is one who controls by teaching, mentoring, and leading. This Dominant knows that when he finds a comparable submissive that things will happen as a natural progression of the interaction. Usually just a short learning phase is required to receive the correct response from the submissive. Both the Dom and the sub “get it”, there is very little need for so called “training” and they naturally know what the other needs and is looking for.       The Dominant does not like the situation of constantly repeating and forcing a particular behavior (submission) to occur. Besides the activities (sexual and others) it is the surrender as a result of the Domination that is the ive and enjoyment. Creativity is an important part of this situation. They tend to intellectualize and be more into the philosophical and psychological mechanisms of this life style. They understand the concepts and resultant interactions and can put it into real life. They do not need many rules like the Democratic type, nor do they like the heavy S&M activities of the Authoritarian, preferring submission to occur as a result of an instilled desire in the submissive to surrender. She “wants” to submit as a result of the Dominant’s knowledge and skill in dominating her.     Sensuousness is the rule. Pain is given and received as a form of sensuous stimulation. Light pain as opposed to severe. Sensuous torture is a popular activity in this area. Both the Dominant and the submissive must naturally be this way. These are the people who will claim to be “born that way”. They fully understand the concept of D/s, it comes to them naturally and easily. They attract a submissive that truly and naturally desires to please and who will observe and sense what it is that the Dominant is communicating;

Ann's Deep Rub Facial The following is part of a much longer story I have written. I will not be presenting it here as much of it would not pass censorship. TEST ONE At the back door there was a note “I am in the study. Make me black tea and bring it, with cream, to me.” My face flushed with excitement. I made the tea and took it to the study. I stood there, in my short little pleated cheer leading skirt and sweater, looking for a place to set down the tea and condiments. MRS. MARQUIS, who was reading, did not bother to look up. After a while she indicated the little table near her. I moved the little box aside and sat the tray down. MRS. MARQUIS appraised what I had done and commented that it would take a while to train me properly. While I remained standing she indicated I should pour her tea with an impatient gesture of her hand. Then she added cream to her tea and then stared rather contemplatively at my chest. After a while she spoke. “Are you ready for another test?” I answered in the affirmative. “You will go to the hall closet and bring me one of the pairs of riding gloves you find there. Make sure it is the oldest most beat up of the lot.” There was riding equipment in the closet. Including riding boots, crops and a couple buggy whips. The gloves were laid out on a rack. It took just a second to find a pair that was a little scuffed. All the others looked new. I returned to MRS. MARQUIS. I offered her the gloves. “Put them on me, stupid.” It was very strange to put gloves on another persons hand so I fumbled around a bit. “Don’t you think it would be easier if you knelt?” “Yes of course,” I said as I sank to my knees. “You are not very good as a supplicant. But then you have had no training. Would you like to learn more about yourself and service?” “Yes” I was stammering again. “Well we shall begin. You have offered, yesterday, to endure discomfort for my pleasure. What would please me now would be to slap that insipid face of yours. Put your hands behind your back Grab opposite fore arms. Arch your chest forward. Hold your face up. Very good. Now I will slap your face from side to side, by the way, you should know that I am using old gloves because you are not worthy of the new ones. I would not want to scuff a good glove on your face. You will return your face to a forward looking position quickly after each slap. Are you ready?” I stammered a “yes”. “Good.” My face stung furiously after just the first slap. But I brought it back to the ordered position. “Quicker” was the order. Again the slap. I learned to keep my mouth shut when my teeth cut the inside of my mouth. I returned my face to the requisite position, only to learn that I was not fast enough. I got quicker, in spite of the pain, so quick that she could swing as fast as she wanted. My eyes red from tears. But before I lost clear vision I could see the look of extreme pleasure on her face. This slapping continued for what seemed an eternity.When she stopped my ears were wringing and my vision red. My face felt like it was covered with Deep Heat Rub. I was sobbing. She pulled me to her. Close to her. As I knelt, she pulled my face to hers and kissed me gently on the lips. Later she put my face to her breast. I knew my tears were leaving dark spots on the garment she wore. “There, there my little bitch it is not so bad now. Is it?”

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