This was my reply to a post on fet.  I thought it might be informative    Past time for a cleaning is generally not a problem imho. Although, I suppose that depends how far past. Maybe it takes a few visits then regular maintenance. If I may, you should provide the lock without a key when you do the furst meet and greet some time before the first cleaning. It should always be you who unlocks the lock and keeps the key. He can go away with the unlocked lock if that is what you choose and lock himself back up some time before the next visit.That sounds like a wonderful arrangement to me.

Today, I’m open to something a bit more direct. A few of you may have the opportunity to speak with me on the phone. Understand this clearly, this is not casual conversation, and it’s not open access. If you approach, you do so with intention. The rules: You request—never assume.You ask for the opportunity. You don’t demand it, hint at it, or try to casually slide into it. You introduce yourself properly.Name, location, and what you’re seeking clearly and without filler. You respect my time.Be available, be prepared, and be concise. I’m not here for rambling or nervous energy. You maintain composure.No over-talking. No interrupting. You listen as much as you speak. You understand this is a privilege, not a right.Not everyone will be chosen. Most won’t. This is about presence. How you approach me before the call tells me everything I need to know about how you’ll carry yourself during it. Choose your words carefully. — Mistress Nikki Vixen

I saw this on Reddit. thought it was a good list so sharing it here: Lots of people talk about Red Flags, but what about green flags? Let's talk about green flags. The things you want to recognize as a potential good partner. 1.They ask about your limits and check in on you during play. 2. They encourage you to have other friendships in the scene. 3. You can talk to them transparently in and out of dynamic 4. You have compatible kinks to play with. 5. They actively seek out enthusiastic consent. 6. They embrace the constant negotiations and renegotiation that is part of relationships 7. The lack of drama is a bit boring but really cozy. People just do not talk about the fact that healthy relationships just do not have that drama cycle. 8. They are respectful and nice to people they do not want to fuck. 9. Their ex's are not all 'crazy". Talks about exs with respect. If someone only has 'crazy' exs then I am thinking they is a crazy maker ie they are reacting to their bad behavior. 10. They are a safe driver. Shitty drivers most likely will not be safe with you either. 11. They do not shit on your interests, in fact they encourage you to develop yourself. 12. They do not ask for nudes right away.

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.  

Building an authentic M/s relationship takes time. It starts with conversation. Open and honest about what things mean, experiences, expectations, and more. How else would we determine if we are good for each other. Then, it takes a leap of faith from both of us. I've been surprised by a "slave" who was so rude and so standoffish. I get I am not for everyone just as not everyone will be a good match for Me. But still... kindness is for everyone.  I am not a wannabe. Nor am I just a thirsty boy looking for sex. Sex will be a great part of our dynamic but it's not what drives Me. I've lived this life authentic for many many years. I seek that 24/7 TAT/TPE again.  That likely starts on line and then moves to calls and visits. I am not here to scam you, lead you on, have you send pics, or wank off to you on skype. Not My thing at all. I am old school. you'll always be treated with respect. Being in charge doesn't equate to mean or disrespectful.  Just about every ex or ex play partner will have good things to say about Me. One was a compulsive liar who turned nasty. A few of them would love for Me to collar them again. you will not be disappointed with Me if you are truly seeking a deep D/s or M/s bond and relationship.  I am still in Grand Rapids while I look at places to relocate to. I'll buy a house and settle in wherever that leads Me to. I hope you'll take a leap of faith. MT

The mystery of living a life of divine love with harmonious relationships, getting total support and joy within a loving family is surrender. Jesus Christ has said to keep the peace so much as it depends on you. There are many who look for social approval and it takes their focus away from having harmonious relationships. They instead care too much about the opinions of others or what others have said regarding a person and not getting to know them on their own, personally. Having bonds within communities is a good thing as we are all truly brothers and sisters of one another. Look out for the interests of others and not to your own only. Look at your brothers and sisters wherever in the world they may be. Are they in need of anything? If you are abundant and possess something they need that you can spare then don't hold back, give. Not everything is about money either. Lend an ear, lend a shoulder to cry upon, write those letters, offer a hug, cook a meal for someone. When you give you receive. It is written. Only please do not sound a trumpet before you for the deeds you are doing for a brother or sister. No one needs to know, just you, God, and your brother or sister that you helped. And if you cannot give, I say to you pray. The prayers prayed in faith will heal a person even a nation. Will you be caught standing strong in love for God and others? Jesus Christ's homecoming is closer than we may think. Will you be ready?

I Don’t Know Where My Poppa Is: A Little Girl’s Song, An Adult Woman’s Pain   "Food & Liquor" by Lupe Fiasco has always hit different for me, but tonight, "He Say She Say" felt like it was speaking straight to my soul. "You see what his problem is He don’t know where his poppa is…" It’s one of those songs where the lyrics carry everything. No extra words needed from me. Just sitting here feeling it deeply—for the child in the story, for the mom trying her best, and how it translates to me as an adult woman with a little girl inside who never went away. Navigating a world where my core family of origin is my biggest enemy and the men I’ve tried to vet and sift through—the ones I hoped would be the real poppa—never came. It left both the adult me and little me saying the same thing: "I don’t know where my poppa is." "You see what my problem is That I don't know where my poppa is No positive male role model To play football and build railroad models" "It's making a hole, you've been digging it 'Cause you ain't been kicking it Since I was old enough to hold bottles Wasn't supposed to get introduced to that I don't deserve to get used to that" As you read the lyrics and listen to the song, imagine that this is what us women go through—what I go through: "Some days it ain't sunny but it ain't so hard Just breaks my heart, when my momma try to provide And I tell her, 'That ain't your job'" This lyric is repeated twice—once from the mom's perspective, saying "When my momma try to provide and I tell her that ain't your job," and once from the son's perspective, saying "When I try to provide and he tells her that ain't your job." For me, the adult me and the little girl—Little Jess—are saying this simultaneously, in one body, clearly, over and over. It’s deep. Like the Lupe Fiasco song I wrote about previously, "The Coolest," the dangers and the stories are all there. And yet, I can’t help but wonder—if men really evaluated what this is like when they pretend to step up and then leave horrendously, do they truly understand what this does? Not just to the adult woman they let down, but to the little girl inside, who they treated as a kind of Pied Piper, leading her into heartbreak. Lupe, thank you for songs like this. "I can't, I won't, I can't I won't let you leave I don't know what you want You want more from me She said to him, "I want you to be a father He's your little boy and you don't even bother Like 'Brother' without the R and he's starting to harbor Cool and food for thought but for you he's a starver" "Starting to use red markers on his work His teacher say they know he's much smarter but he's hurt Used to hand his homework in first Like he was the classroom starter" "Burst to tears, let them know she see us Now he's fighting in class Got a note last week that say he might not pass Ask me if his daddy was sick of us 'Cause you ain't never pick him up" "You see what his problem is He don't know where his poppa is No positive male role model To play football and build railroad models" "He's making a hole, you've been digging it 'Cause you ain't been kicking it Since he was old enough to hold bottles Wasn't supposed to get introduced to that He don't deserve to get used to that" "Now I ain't asking you for money or to come back to me Some days it ain't sunny but it ain't so hard Just breaks my heart, when I try to provide And he say, 'Mommy, that ain't your job'" To be a man, I try to make him understand That I'm his number one fan But it's like he born from the stands You know the world is out to get him So why don't you give him a chance?" I can't, I won't, I can't I won't let you leave Now, now, I don't know what you want You want more from me So he said to him, "I want you to be a father I'm your little boy and you don't even bother Like 'Brother' without the R and I'm starting to harbor Cool and food for thought but for you I'm a starver" "Starting to use red markers on my work My teacher say they know I'm much smarter but I'm hurt I used to hand my homework in first Like I was the classroom starter" "Burst to tears, let them know he see us Now I'm fighting in class Got a note last week that say I might not pass Kids ask me if my daddy is sick of us 'Cause you ain't never pick me up" "You see what my problem is That I don't know where my poppa is No positive male role model To play football and build railroad models" "It's making a hole, you've been digging it 'Cause you ain't been kicking it Since I was old enough to hold bottles Wasn't supposed to get introduced to that I don't deserve to get used to that" "Now I ain't asking you for money or to come back to me Some days it ain't sunny but it ain't so hard Just breaks my heart, when my momma try to provide And I tell her, 'That ain't your job'" "To be a man, she try to make me understand That she my number one fan But it's like you born from the stands You know the world is out to get me Why don't you give me a chance?" It's like, I can't, I won't, I can't I won't let you leave Now, now, I don't know what you want You want more from me I can't, I won't, I can't I won't let you leave I don't know what you want You want more from me I can't, I won't, I can't I won't let you leave" Have you ever connected deeply with a song like this—one that feels like it speaks to both your pain and your strength at the same time? If so, which one, and why?

One got to love those indecisive str8 males. They know what they want, crave it, and dream with it. However, they are terrified to discover their true desires which for against their concept of masculinity. I am well aware of the effect I have on males in general. But in the case of indecisive str8 males I am terrifiying. not good looking, not a body to look at, but full of attitude and a very noticeable bulge that is always an eye catcher. I understand the conflict, there is a struggle between what the body is telling them and what their rational mind opposes. The truth is that there is a physiological contradiction; the find themselves aroused and painfully hard and their hole quivering and wet. not into guys, never had been, so what's is wrong? Nothing is wrong, the fact and plain truthe is that they found a male a man that swept them off their feet and there is no denying; the want to be close and to feel the totality of  a sexuality that now awakened refuse to retreat.  They can rationalize all they can and they can flatly denny the obvious but the fact remains the proud str8 male fell for another more powerful male! What to do? Society, religion, the wife or gf at home, and the friends know this male as a man man , and now he is still is but there is an interest a craving, a thirst that only another man (me) que quench and there is the conflict that can only be solved by surrendering and realizing that there is no label only an expansion of sexuality; a top and leader in public and asubmissive with the man that owns your most treasured space; your virginity. Step Up to the plate be a man and give your body what you now now it needs; a true male a Bull. 

What is wrong with people? So once again I find myself here, trying to fathom out what has happened. A certain someone from here has decided that after a protracted conversation my being polite and making sensible concessions is my being not what they seek. Honestly. This is who I am, manners cost nothing yet form the basis of my being.  I use them in everyday life and conversation and they have served me well.  Yet here once again I am faced with them being seen as negative. Where are the people on here who want to be treated like real human beings, with respect, honour, and morality? If my being me and using manners is going to offend then step away. If my asking questions is not for you then don't approach. If I want to build trust and you don't then look elsewhere. Rant over!

Journal Entry: Why Some Women Choose Slavery I have often reflected on why some women willingly choose to live as slaves in a Master/slave household. To outsiders, it may appear confusing—why would anyone want to surrender control of their own life? But when viewed through the lens of trust, devotion, and purpose, the answers reveal themselves clearly. For many women, there is a deep longing to be free from the constant burden of decision-making and responsibility that the modern world demands. In slavery, there is clarity. A slave’s role is defined, her place is secure, and her purpose is to serve. This surrender of control is not weakness—it is a relief. In letting go, she discovers freedom from doubt and hesitation, and in service, she finds strength and fulfillment. There is also the matter of intimacy. When a woman gives herself fully, she allows herself to be seen in her most vulnerable and honest state. No masks. No pretenses. In that surrender, bonds are formed that are deeper than most will ever know. To be owned is to be cherished, and for many women, the knowledge that their Master claims them as His gives them a sense of belonging they have always sought. Growth comes, too, from the challenges of slavery. The training, the discipline, the demands of service—all of these shape her into something stronger. She learns to endure, to obey, to strive for excellence. In pleasing her Master, she also proves something to herself: that she is capable of devotion, of transformation, of becoming more than she thought she could be. And perhaps the greatest reward is devotion itself. To give one’s life, heart, and soul to another, without reservation, brings a sense of completeness. Some women long to dedicate themselves fully, and in slavery they find the purest expression of loyalty and love. Their submission is not a loss—it is the path that brings them peace. This is why some women choose slavery in a consensual M/s environment. Not because they are weak, but because they are strong enough to surrender. Not because they lack value, but because they find value in being claimed, used, and cherished. And in that, they are fulfilled.

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In my latest writing called, The Fitting Room... my characters meets a younger, submissive woman named Beth. I am looking for my own Beth... like the woman I imagined in my writing. if you are intrigued ... message me :) ======== The Fitting Room: Part 1 | Beth .... (erotica) We met in the fitting room of a local boutique. I had just tried on my new dress and came out to stand in front of the large 3-piece mirror. It was one of those faux wrap around dresses and I really liked the pattern and material. I had my hair clipped up and wanted to see what it would look like with my hair down. I took the clip out and shook my hair.. fluffed it a bit with my fingers, and stared. Turned... even lifted my breasts a little, as if to say... 'Get up there girls.. knockers up'. As I was standing there staring at my reflection.... the door to the fitting room closest to the mirror opened up and a younger woman stepped out. I assumed she wanted to get a look at herself in the mirror so I smiled.. and stepped aside. She stepped ahead of me to stand in front of the mirrors, and like I did.. she turned and looked at her new dress. She was easily 20-25 years younger than me and I thought of where I was in my life at that age. She had long dark hair and the dress accentuated her curves. I found myself wondering what she looked like without the dress on. I had told my Daddy that I was curious about being with another woman. Feeling another woman's breasts... her curves... tracing her bottom lip with my thumb... leaning in for a very full and sensuous kiss. I wondered to myself if this younger woman standing in front of me had ever thought those kinds of thoughts about another woman. I cleared my throat and said, 'That looks really good on you'. I looked her up and down and met her eyes directly. She stared for a moment, and then looked down and blushed. 'Thank you.. but I'm not sure if I should get it.', she said. 'I had ordered it for a party I was going to go to with my girlfriend, but we broke up. When the store called me to say the dress was in, I wasn't sure if I should have told them that I had changed my mind.. or come in and try it on.' She sighed and looked down at the floor, and bit her bottom lip. When she looked up, I could see she was holding back tears. 'Oh goodness', I said. 'It'll be alright... you'll see.' I touched her shoulder to show some comfort, and she smiled a bit -- but she still wore that sadness that only a recent break-up can bring. She was still examining herself in the mirror and asked, 'So... what's the occasion for your new dress?' Well... I smiled rather big and blushed really hard. How was I going to tell this woman that I had bought this dress for a rather special.. and very sexy dining experience? One where.. I was going to be.. the meal. I decided to put my big girl panties on and take a chance. 'I needed to wear something extra special for a dinner that my.... Daddy, is putting together.', I said. I watched her facial expression to see if I could detect if she knew what I was talking about. I was curious if she was in the lifestyle or knew about Daddies and Master's, etc.   She blinked a couple of times and cleared her throat and said, 'Oh.. your Daddy is having a party for you?'.. and her smile said it all. She had a sweet smile, and was biting her bottom lip again. She knew.. and she now knew that I knew, she knew. 'Yes.. He is.', I said. I smiled and stepped around her back and we both looked in the mirror. I came in close to her ear.. still maintaining eye contact with her in the mirror. 'After my Daddy helps me take off this new dress, I will be helped onto a table to lie down so his guests can eat food off of my body... among other things.' She smiled then and said, 'Really?', to which I replied, 'Absolutely', and leaned in a little more. 'Are you a good girl or a dirty little slut?', I asked in almost a whisper. I watched her in the mirror and saw her slightly rub her legs together and reply, almost automatically, 'I'm a dirty little slut, Ma'am.' I could see her flush start to creep from her face, down her neck and travel downward.. and I smiled to myself. I knew right away.. she was a very good girl.. and I was already thinking she would be a very good little slut for me and my Daddy. 'You wouldn't like to come to this party.. would you?', I asked. 'Really? Yes Ma'am, I would really like that.', she stammered. I swear I felt giddy at how sweet she looked right then. 'I'm sure my Daddy will be pleased that I'm bringing a... special guest. He is always very pleased when he knows I have met a good girl who wants to serve and please both of us. ', I said. "You would like to serve and please both of us, correct?' 'Oh Yes Ma'am.. Yes. I would like that!, she said. 'Oh gosh.. where are my manners.. my name is Beth', and she stuck out her hand to shake mine. I smiled and took her hand in mine. Her handshake was strong and firm. I liked it. 'I'm pleased to meet you, Beth. You may call me, Ma'am for now.. maybe Sis in the future', I said. 'Here is my card. You will call me tomorrow but in the meantime, may I call you later tonight?' She gave me her phone number to put in my phone, and her email. 'Yes Ma'am.. I would really like that.', she replied. 'Good girl... we'll talk later then.', I said. With that.. I walked back to my fitting room, stepped in and shut the door behind me. She had no idea how hard my heart was beating and how nervous I was. I opened a new text message and typed.... "Hi Daddy.. you're never going to believe what happened while I was at the boutique picking up my dress for the party...." To be continued.....   Written 07/06/2024 MPH 💜