ClaimedMy name, Emiko, which means prosperous, beautiful child, has not helped, not a bit. It’s been a bad year. At 23 years old, I got my own place, moved all my stuff and had finally left my parents’ home. This seemed like a big step towards independence, made less scary as my parents were still close by and I would need them less and less. Several months later there was a horrible crash. My parents ripped away instantly. Still, there was my boyfriend of many years who was soon to be my fiancé. He was there for me, helped me through much of the hardest stuff, supported me when I needed it most. Several months later, instead of proposing as was expected, he dumped me and not your nice dinner, its-not-you, blah, blah. No, he dump me by text. Still there was my dog. I had loved this dog from when I was 5 years old. He was always there to take care of me and watch over me even when the world was scary. Several months later, as he was now living in pain, it was time to let him go too but how could I? He was the last person who cared for me. I had to do right by him and let him go peacefully. Yeah, it’s been a bad year.On this particular Saturday morning, as I lay in bed trying to build enough motivation to get out, the feelings of being disconnected, isolated and alienated, of not belonging, were overwhelming. This is something that had been steadily building through the year but was reaching a fever pitch. Sometimes we get so detached from the world around us there's no way for us to reattach ourself. The only hope is for someone to find you who will grab on and pull you back. All my attachment points seem to have disappeared or broken. I was drifting free. I wanted so much for someone to reach out, pull me back and reattach me to this world.My thoughts went back to a harebrained scheme that had been rattling around my head for some time — just give myself to the first person who would have me. It was a fast, simple solution to a problem I did not know how to solve. You’re gonna think this is crazy mostly because it is crazy but that morning, crazy was all I had. This wasn’t the first time I thought about this idea. In fits of fancy, I had even planned it out. It was based on a story I read called ‘Halloween’. The woman in the story had put herself out there for someone to claim and someone claimed her. I bought a nice leather collar which also fit my thigh, a matching 8 foot leather strap you might call a leash but it was really a lead and, just because I wanted my intensions to be clear, I bought a garter that said, ‘CLAIM ME’ in inch and a half capitol letters. Baker Beach, you know, the one with the beautiful view of the Golden Gate Bridge, has a section where clothing is optional. I’d go there, strip down to just those three items, stand there and wait. My body is nothing special. I don’t have a lot of boob or a lot of anything. I’m a tiny asian woman; shocking in San Francisco. People say everyone loves a tiny asian woman. How could anyone resist a freely available, totally naked, tiny asian woman? Well, they all did.It was getting late into the afternoon and would start getting cold soon. My isolation was now complete. I stood there all day, buck naked, offering myself to anyone who would take me and no one had even stop by to ask. Then a man walked towards me. I saw him earlier when he was heading down the beach. He had looked in my direction for some time, then walked passed like everyone else. Now, as he got closer, he looked right at the garter and just smiled.Deep inside me, I was a bit disappointed. Looking back at that moment, my fast thinking said he was older than I want, not built the way I want, not dressed the way I want, and truthfully, not tall like I want. None of that mattered at this point. I wanted to be wanted. I wanted to be connected. I needed to be claimed. “If you want me to stop at anytime, say kangaroo. If you understand what I’m telling you, say banana.” It seemed like every emotion was passing through me at that moment. Fear and longing where the strongest. Longing won out.“Banana”He opened the lock on the collar, dropping the keys, both of them, in his pocket. I was already shaking a bit. He strapped it around my neck, not too tight, and secured it with the lock. He removed the garter then unwound the lead from my waist and clipped it to the collar. There were no thoughts in my head but a certain calm washed over me. “How long have you been standing here?”“All day”“Did you reapply your sunscreen? You’re starting to look a bit red.”“I didn’t.”“Do you have aloe or something like it.”Without thinking through what was about to happen, I said there’s aloe in my bag. He got the aloe, put some in his hands and started to apply it. My mind was racing. I froze. Something like this was obviously gonna happen if things went to plan but I had never really played the fantasy out this far so this came as a bit of a shock. He started with my legs. He was not shy, taking his time, being thorough but not gratuitously lingering. He went all the way to the top but didn’t explicitly touch my pussy just brushing it to get the whole leg. I realized my pussy was tingly, all of me was, and that I was probably really wet. He did my arms, my face and neck, my back including my hips and ass. He continued to be thorough but not gratuitous and that did not change when he did my front starting at the shoulders, then to the top of my chest then to my tits, my belly and then put his hand above my mons and went right down between my legs. I got a little dizzy. This random man who I’ve known for 7 minutes just locked a collar around my neck, applied lotion to my entire naked body and I was just tingling with delight. He asked me if I was comfortable coming to his place downtown; he’d order a car. I said yes; I said yes? but also mentioned my place was walking distance from here and we could go there. He said great. I told him the address. He handed me my bag and started walking with a solid gr on the lead. I followed not even thinking about the fact that I was being lead down the s

I just bought some new tangerine colored panties and thought about going to the ABS, so I went home to change into some pretty underthings. i then went to my go-to ABS wearing a shear white button down cover-up, a white bandeau bra and my new tangerine colored panties under my pants. i bought my tokens, and as i walked to the back room, i unbuttoned my cover-up leaving my bra exposed. I sat down in the booth and it wasn’t long before I was sucking on a nice cock. After I finished off the second cock, a guy came into my booth waving me outside of my booth and into another booth. i walked in - a guy was stroking his Big Black Cock. It was the biggest cock i have ever saw, i mean it was massive! He pointed to my crotch and I lowered my jeans showing him my panties. He pointed again, and i lowered my panties showing him my little clitty. He stood up and pulled my clitty next to his cock. It was extremely humiliating to see my little white clitty next to his massive black cock. He put his arm on my shoulder directing me down to a stooping position, right in front of his cock. At first, it was all i could do just to get the head of his cock in my mouth, slowly i was able to get further down his shaft. After a while, he start to moan and thrusting his cock forward into my mouth. Shortly after that, he started to cum. After he filled my mouth with cum, he pulled out and his cum was still dripping out of his cock. He pulled up his pants and left.                

Hey the journal function is finally fixed!! Time to write a story about one of my (our) experiences: I shut the car door and wave goodbye to my husband, P. He blows me a kiss and pulls away. I wait until he's turned the corner and out of sight until I begin to walk up my master's driveway. It's a short walk, the house set back from the street but my path leads me into the open garage. Once past the threshold, I press the button to shut the garage door behind me. As it trundles on its tracks, I grab my sweater and pull it over my head in one quick motion. I won't need it again this weekend. My shoes, jeans, panties and socks all follow. I savor taking them off and folding them neatly, making the moment last. My backside is still sore from the punishment I received one week earlier. It had been a maid week and I had done an inadequate job with the chores. My master did not let it slide and he wanted to make sure I remember. As I stroked my bruised cheeks, I hoped it would be a kitten week. Something nice and easy, where I could be cherished and all I needed to think about was pleasure. The crate is open and I place my clothes inside. My cell phone follows along with my keys. With a sigh, I shut the crate and padlock it. Master will come and take my phone in due time, better to document my weekend for P's enjoyment and my potential humiliation. But the clothes are gone. Feeling the chill of the garage on my feet, I enter "the servant's entrance" as we jokingly call it.  Three boxes await me in the foyer. Oh shit. This is different. Usually I have no choice in how I spend the weekend. It's always one box, with either the maid's costume, the cat ears, or ... the other. But with three gift wrapped boxes in front of me, it's up to fate.  I can't open one box and change my mind. Not that disobeying master is ever an option. Whichever one I open is my weekend of service.  Can I weigh them? As I reach for the first box, I see a string attached. Nope, he'll know. I have to pick. Eenie. Meanie. Miney. "Ahem." A cleared throat from the other room. I'm in trouble already.  I make my decision and tear the wrapping paper off. Inside the box is ... Nothing. The slut this weekend, then. I walk into the living room, my hands folded in front of me, my eyes down. Master is sitting in his chair, drinking whiskey and reading. There's a pillow in front of him, directly between his feet. Keeping my eyes down, I kneel. He makes me wait, finishing this week's New Yorker. Occasionally my eyes flick up as I weigh my options. I could reach up and begin undoing his belt - the stretch of fabric in his lap tells me he's interested and excited for my weekly visit. I went for a wax earlier in the week and made sure to put my perfume on my skin so he could smell me no matter what I wore. And in my role as the slut, that would be in line with expectations. But I'm so conditioned to serve at command that I stay frozen.  He shakes his glass and I spring up to take it from his hand. I walk to the bar and as I reach for the whiskey, he says "The drawer." I open the top drawer. Inside is my collar, simple and black, a pair of silver handcuffs, and a red ballgag.  "Shall I--?" I start to ask. "Don't ask questions you should know the answer to," he says with disinterest.  OK then. I put the glass down and pick up the gag. I push it between my teeth and secure the belt behind my head. Next, the handcuffs. Does he want them in front or behind? I wish I could ask. The maid gets handcuffed in the front, so she can work. The slut, behind, so she has no control. So I slip the cuffs on behind my back, hearing the satisfied clink. But in my haste, I forgot the collar! It takes me several tries, standing on my tippy toes, mmphing with effort, to pick the collar up with my cuffed hands behind me. I trot to master happily. He finally looks at me. "My drink?" He asks. Damn it. What to do? I blink at him, fluttering my eyelashes. Push one foot in front of me and circle it back and forth on his loafer. Don't blame, I don't know any better? He takes the collar from me and cls it around my neck. Seizing my throat suddenly, he pulls me in close. "A slut does not mean you're stupid," he whispers in my ear.  One of our agreements when I first began serving him is that he'd never call me a bitch. A slut is something a person chooses to be. It's a sigh of power, both mine and his. I feel my body warm at his words and I lean down to rub my gagged mouth against his neck. He indulges me for a moment and then grabs a fistful of my hair. It's been a little while but I remember how slut weekends go. I'll be confined to the bedroom, chained to the bed most of the time. He'll film my submission and send it back to P. There's an entire box of toys for me to (mostly) enjoy, though the word "no" is gone from my vocabulary until Sunday night. My rest will be dependent on how often master wants me and how he wants me.  It will be a long, fun weekend.

The Standard of Respect I have been active in this lifestyle for a long time; I am not new, and I am certainly not naive. I have put significant effort into my profile and journals because I value transparency. I expect the same in return. No Instant Demands: Do not lead with demands for pictures or "bowing down." Reciprocity: If your profile is empty, do not expect me to do the heavy lifting. I want to know who you are, just as I have shared who I am. Hard Boundaries: I am not looking for degradation, humiliation, or to be treated as a "doormat." I know my worth. I am an SSBBW and I am comfortable in my skin; if that is not your preference, please move along without comment. Also to be upfront hard limts t giving oral and giving rimming are hard limits. The Dynamic: Polyandry (One Female, Multiple Males) I am seeking a committed, long-term Polyandrous dynamic. I am specifically looking for a life-long connection with more than one man. Why Polyandry? I have a high drive and a vast amount of love to give. I’ve found that one partner often cannot meet all my needs, and I refuse to be left alone or feel neglected. No MFF/FMF: I have explored these dynamics in the past and found them to be unfair. I am not interested in being the "added" female to an existing couple. The Vision: I envision a household where we are all connected. I am particularly interested in bisexual men, as I believe this fosters a deeper bond between all members of the family, ensuring no one is ever "the odd man out." Commitment & Independence Financial Autonomy: I intend to work. I have been financially dependent on men in the past and felt trapped; I will not repeat that mistake. I am a partner, not a dependent. The "Family" Bond: While not legally married, I am looking for that level of emotional and spiritual commitment. I value structure—such as rotating schedules to ensure everyone gets 1-on-1 bonding time as well as group time. Real Life Only: I am not here for "cybering," "hookups," or digital-only fantasies. I am looking for a real-world, long-term family structure. Final Thoughts I realize what I am asking for is rare. I am not "young," and I am not interested in settling. I would much rather be alone than be unhappy or disrespected. If you are a mature, respectful man who understands the depth of a polyandrous commitment, I welcome a thoughtful introduction.

DOMINANT WOMEN BEWARE! Well, Mr. Beenhere25yearsandf*ckingwithdominantwomen contacted Me again.  I have a feeling he has made a full time job of this shinnanigans.  Contacts women or waits to be contacted, then has a 3 month relation, then disappears due to multiple guardians (LOL), dual citizenship (USA/UK), testing on his ALIEN DNA (LOL), OH LORD the list and LIES gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooe ON AND ON!  Then someone else contacts you, given your name from Mr. Mindf*ck, and you quickly realize it is the same person!  Back and forth, round and round, LIES AND MORE LIES.  Emails from yahoo, aol, gmail (his favorite) and forget about it now that AI and ChatGPT have arrived.  He is a vertible keyboard warrior.  Dont be fooled if given a phone number.  You'll work for it, oh yes indeed and it will again be a series of shoots and ladders!  He is a L I A R, F R A U D and he even has ropped in a person or two for his mind games.  Can you imagine somone playing at this over 25 years?! If I have said it once, I've said it 100 times - verify verify verify and don't put one ounce of effort into another submissive man until HE PROVES HIMSELF TO YOU!  Phone, in-person VERIFICATION.  And this goes for the other wankers as well.  Even the ones who send a copy of license and passport.  Only in person, face to face, contracts signed and skin in the game proves a mans worth.

I'm almost certainly going to regret writing this, but it's come up a couple times now with potential play partners and maybe this will save me some time in the future. First: I'm a libertarian. What does this mean? The shortest definition I've been able to find is "I believe gay married couples should be able to defend their pot plants with machine guns." I also believe if government is the answer, the question was a smorgasbord of banality and despair. For those of you who know me, know what I do, and what I've done, you know I've found myself having to deal with confrontations from time to time. I don't want to hype this because I know there are plenty of you who've had to go much further into the quicksand of defusing conflict than I have, and are better at it. However, I have learned some things along the way. Most importantly, everything I've gotten from training and experience is that the way you produce positive change with people you disagree with is to look for the things you have in common and build on them. I don't care if it's a mutual hatred of Brussels Sprouts, it's a starting point. You may never get to a point where you like the other person (and that's fine), but in finding that common ground you're at least likely to walk away acknowledging your common humanity and not hating them. If you're seeking out the things you conflict on and using them as a justification for not engaging (or worse, starting a fight), you truly are part of the problem. No one is going to share your political beliefs down to the finest detail, and if you're dogmatic about it (right or left), you're going to find yourself alone. The really sad thing about this is that I promise you your political beliefs are the least interesting and most tedious part of who you are. People who live and breathe politics are like people who obsess over cars. I don't want to have an in-depth discussion with anyone on "the violence inherent in the system" or the great new exhaust note your car makes with straight pipes you put on. Lets see if we can find something interesting to talk about instead. This is a kink community. Your interest in bondage or S&M or your new latex catsuit is a much more intriguing conversation than how culpable the president is for gas prices.

A couple nights ago, a self-defined submissive made some generic comment in his email, but did call me Domina, so I responded. A little earlier tonight, he wrote back to ask if I was looking for a slave. Specifically, "slave." I responded "Well, if you had actually read more than the first line, you would have found your answer before you asked" To which he replied "oh, read the profile syndrome that tells me everything I want to know not for me bye" Do you see the problem here? He didn't make any effort, while simultaneously offering himself as a "slave." To a total stranger. 'Cause lawd knows, a slave ain't gonna be asked to do anything as outRAGEOUS as... READ. This kind of obtuseness just blows my freakin mind every time. I mean, the twit has exchanged less than a hundred words with me, is using not the mild mannered "submissive" or "sub" which is kind of like dating, if you think about words (and you sure as shit better be the kind that thinks about words if you are writing ME) but instead chose the serious and committed word "Slave" which is a lot more like suggesting marriage. And obviously, he's heard this before, because he had a whole big feeling about it, and has pathologized it as something only demented women expect from a man who was already offering the pinnacle of servitude. It's funny because it's so sad, and so common. I had just never heard it put that way before. Such over the top, blatant gaslighting. 'If you want this, you must be CRAZY!' I mean, really who wants to actually KNOW someone they have given all power over their lives??? I guess I'm more tired than I thought, and a bit bummed over lack of snuggle time with DB on account of snow, but I didn't even bother replying to laugh at him. Block, delete, on to the next. Maybe I go watch TCM The Beginning again. (I fast forward through all the parts that Thomas isn't in. Much shorter movie, but I enjoy it a lot more.)

Vulnerability:   In the shadows, I often hide Afraid to show what's deep inside Vulnerability feels like a curse A weakness that I can't reverse   But in moments of quiet reflection I wonder, should I embrace this direction? To open my heart and let others see The raw, unfiltered side of me   Should I release the walls I've built so high And let my true emotions fly? Or should I continue to keep them at bay Hiding my vulnerability every single day   It's a battle within, a constant fight To hold on tight or break free into the light Maybe it's time to let down my guard And show the world my vulnerable heart   But the fear still lingers, the doubt remains Can I withstand the vulnerability's strains? Yet deep down, a voice whispers, "just try" Perhaps embracing vulnerability is worth a try

I need to update my profile here, long overdue. My profile that is currently posted, is one that was written when I first join CS. Since then, through the years of properly being mentored, learning, and maturing in the lifestyle, my outlook and perspective on the lifestyle has changed greatly. Over the years, I have learned that the lifestyle has much more to offer than just kinky, hurtful play and sex. People who have that mentality, do not really take time to appreciate and cherish the finer aspaspects of having a submissive or slave that puts herself out there just to please others. Although my current profile states what I'm looking for, doesn't really mean that I have the improper attitude. My attitude has greatly changed, and if you take the time to learn more about me or others that inquire into your profile, you might find a hidden jewel in this rubbish heap on this site. I, as a Master, is not into this lifestyle for the kinky sex, but for it to greatly enhance the relationship, to make it strong, safe, to enhance growth in each other, make each other grow and be fulfilled. Most importantly, I desire and will make my submissive or slave feel appreciated and cherished in everything she does, and to give her that balance of the vanilla and lifestyle is important. There are other aspaspects that go along with the relationship that are just as important as well. This might give the impression that I'm not a strict Master or Dominate, for I can be strict, but fair, and generous as well. I'm a laid back easy type of guy, but I'm observant and knows whats going on. I'm not a pushover by any means. Whatever you do, don't judge a book by its cover.... you might lose out on a jewel!

Goodness I blocked two guys before breakfast today. I want a slave near me who drives so we can go enjoy munch evenings together and fetish clubs too. Cinema and meals out. Because I am a Dominant Woman that is "usual" for me. I want someone easy on the eye so no older than 40 and single.   Not too much of a list I thought. But as many women everywhere comment on here, guys are not reading profiles= I copy/paste replies to avoid the monotony.    1. First guy was living in Germany 1 hour away he said. The point is he doesn't live near me in the UK. I lead so it was no. Pushy got him blocked.   2. Guy was 65 so I declined as late nights bring.on the moans from older guys= it's late/music is so loud etc. Not my thing so MY choice is the guy is a certain age bracket. Guy us pushy gets blocked.   They need to put NOTE to self Google what Woman Led Relationship is=the Woman Leads=ME.  3. The late entry to be blocked. Another free ProDomme seeker who doesn't accept a FLR is ME the Woman leads. Period. Accept that or get blocked. Simple.    

050923 UPDATE Always on the lookout for good people, honest people, power full people.  People who believe Trust Respect and Communication are the foundation of healthy relating.   I'm a full time caregiver going on 5 years.  Mum is in the beginning of the later stages of Alzheimer's disease.  She is the most intelligent, generous, kind, gentle, well spoken, unassuming, sincere and flirtacious people I have known.  She is My best friend and I'm so absolutely blessed to have this person love Me, trust Me, and show up every time.   The past year has been absolutely brutal in terms of challenges with the dementia, sleep apnea and care giver burnout.  We are on the mend and treading softly. Originally from Boston, I love New Hampshire, the water, the wild life, the snow, the silence. If you are interested in serving and or getting to know one another for the purpose of intimate relations / friendships, get in touch and let Me know if you prefer to speak through Teams, Chat/Meet, or I may call you from a blocked number where we can get acquainted.  After 6PM EST , Sunday through Thursday, is the best time for discussion when arranged in advance. I'm fairly straight forward and appreciate positive action.       

Woo-hoo approved.  I kept it fairly safe cause I've heard of so many others having issues. As stated I was around when it was collarme.  Probably 2005 until it went poof.  So thrilled to see this new site. I did in fact meet quite a few men from that site over the years.  Some were one offs.  Some were play partners for a while.  Some we just weren't as compatible in person.   I do my best to avoid the latter issue by getting to know someone enough prior to meeting.  Ensuring our wants and needs are both going to be met and that expectations are realistic.  If someone cannot engage my mind prior to meeting I already know that won't happen magically just because we do meet.   I am genuinely a kind person.  I can come across bitchy because of my writing style and bluntness.  I also do not have much patience for those who will not read and are here due to boredom or for me to entertain them via writing and pics.  I am looking for real time meets.  That is all. I do lean submissive.  I love being used.  I am not an idiot or a brainless child.  I am a slut first who also happens to be submissive. If "training" is in your repertoire move on.  That's a game I'm not into.  I'm also not into submissive men or switches.   I am simply not attracted to them. I want people to reach out but please be interested in real time and local.  If men would respect what women want I think both our experiences on this site would be so much better.   I will post more and get into the good stuff.  Take care for now!

There’s a pattern I see far too often—and it’s impossible to ignore. Too many men hiding behind loud opinions, inflated egos, and surface-level submission. Talking endlessly, questioning everything, yet completely lacking the one thing that actually matters: direction. And no—I don’t place that blame entirely on them. Without consistent interaction, correction, and instruction from the Dom side, many never develop the proper tone of submission. They don’t learn restraint. They don’t learn how to listen. They don’t learn how to respond with intention instead of impulse. So they remain… reactive. Over-opinionated. Frustrating. Not because they’re incapable—but because no one required more of them. Submission has a tone to it. It’s measured. It’s aware. It understands when to speak, and more importantly, when not to. It doesn’t push for control under the guise of curiosity or “connection.” And without structure, without standards, without a Dom who actually enforces both—most will never evolve past that noise. That doesn’t interest me. I’m not here for unmanaged energy or misplaced ego. I’m here for discipline. For growth. For those who are capable of refinement—and willing to be shaped by it. The difference is always obvious. — Mistress Nikki Vixen

An evening, recalled by the lady, written by me.It was late afternoon and it had been a tough day at the Commission. His kiss when he met me at the station was warm and affectionate; we chatted on the way to the hotel and as we checked in. When we arrived in the room I dumped my stuff on the bed and went out onto the veranda to look out over the lake. A few minutes later I heard him say ‘come here please’. I turned to see him with an impassive look on his face and standing in the middle of the room pointing at the floor just in front of his feet. He took hold of me around my waist and as he kissed me deeply, his hands travelled from my waist down my hips and across my bottom. Then up my back to my neck and then he felt my hair. He murmured ‘give me your tongue’ and I slipped it between his teeth. He nipped it and held it between his upper teeth and tongue. It was uncomfortable but not painful, he had done it often before and I had grown to like it. His hands resumed their journey around my upper body. They were firm, confident and moved without any hesitation. I could not have ed even if I had wanted too and the welcome feeling of melting inside began. He then released my tongue, kissed my lips then he turned me around and bent me over so my elbows were on the bed. He lifted my skirt and folded it over my back. His hands then roved freely over my bottom and between my thighs. He felt my mons, traced the line of my slit and ran his fingertips between down the crease between my buttocks, pausing to press on my anus. He then held me firmly against his thigh and began to spank me- this had recently become a regular beginning to our time together. One spank per cheek, then two, then three, they landed on my upper thighs and the curve of my bottom. He stopped at six and spent a few minutes gently rubbing my bottom, occasionally slipping his hand between my thighs. At ten per cheek it was stinging a lot. By twelve I was having difficulty keeping still. It was the knowledge that if I moved he would start again that kept me in position. The spanking was not unexpected and it had the desired effect. I felt myself starting to melt inside even more as he rubbed my stinging bottom and thighs once again. He stopped and made me stand. Then looked me in the eye, and then said ‘I have a few issues to resolve with you’. My stomach took a lurch, I’d been here before, he had shown no sign of real annoyance with me recently but then he never really did. He took me by the chin, looked into my eyes and said ‘strip and kneel’. He then turned and went to the veranda. It only took a minute to remove all my clothes and jewellery. I knelt, apprehensive about his return, embarrassed it had been a warm day; I had been wearing tights and had not had the time to wash and prepare myself for him. My make up had gone and I knew I did not look my best. He returned and pushed me forward to my knees and elbows. Pulling back my hair he locked my leather collar around my neck. It felt strange after the long break since I last wore it. The wrist cuffs were fitted next before he clipped them behind my back pinioning my wrists. He pulled my collar by its short leash to make me kneel up and then buckled a gag around my neck and pushed the red ball behind my teeth before tightening   it. He turned me so my back was to the mirror and placed a low backed chair in front of me. He could now see both the back and front of me. Sitting on the chair he told me to part my thighs wide and to emphasise the point his foot nudged my knees wide apart. I hoped he wasn’t going to touch me between my thighs as he so loved too, I so regretted not taking a shower immediately we arrived in the room. From his pocket he took some butterfly style nipple clips. I hate them and he knows it, he threaded their chain into the ring at the front of my collar and after pinching my nipples between his thumb and forefinger to make them fully erect he clipped one to each nipple. The discomfort was almost unbearable, I instinctively closed my thighs, and he ed and gently tugged the chain, sending sharp jolts through me. I did as I was told and spread my thighs wide, pushing my mons forward as far as I could. The gag muffling my weak protests. He spoke slowly, jerking the chain on saying each word. ‘Three weeks ago you forgot your make up, two weeks ago your stockings, last week your high shoes. You have arrived in my company wearing tights for the last 4 weeks, hence the immediate spankings. You have not kissed or greeted me properly on meeting for the same length of time. You make up today is poor, your hair isn’t brushed and you have not left your pubic hair as I instructed. In short young lady you are marring your beauty. You are fully aware how beautiful I think you are and you are distracting from it by being sloppy and that disappoints me. I will not accept you detracting from the pleasure I take in having such a desirable woman as my lover. Do you understand?’ I nodded, my eyes starting to water from the discomfort in my nipples and the realisation of how I had disappointed him. There was also the knowledge that I had been here before and if it followed a similar pattern then this was the case against me. By nodding I admitted my guilt. So I was about to punished for being a sloppy and inattentive submissive who had disappointed her Dominant.  He helped me to my feet by lifting me by the collar on my ring; it also had the effect of tugging on my nipples. He reversed his chair and tugged the chain as he removed each nipple clip. It stung as the blood filled each nipple, my knees almost buckled each time, the gag muffling the g. He then connected my wrists cuffs in front of me, and bent me over the back of his chair so my weight rested on my elbows. ‘Part your legs’ he said, I complied and hoped he would decide to have me, not cane me. I was to be disappointed, though recently spanked I accepted I had earned this too. He fetched a cane from his bag as I waited anxiously. Holding the back of my collar he rested the cane against my bottom, drew it back and struck me. ‘One‘ he said. All I did was hear the sound then the harsh sting reached my brain! He was using the flat cane.  A piece of flexible wood two feet long, an inch wide and a quarter of an inch thick. It didn’t leave tram lines or scars; I knew its stinging would last for ages and leave a square red mark on each buttock, but it would not bruise very much. Not that it seemed important at that moment. Though I find the cane painful, the thonged whip he occasionally uses is worse. Its thick strands inflict weal’s and their tips can get into the most intimate parts of my body. I’ve also known him use it on my breasts and belly. Each cane stroke went slightly lower until the last 3 all struck where the tops of my thighs and my bottom met. My legs kicked out from the stinging, by now I had dribbled spittle around the gag, my eyes were streaming and my nose had started to run. He let go the back of my collar and returned the cane to his bag. Returning he pulled me upright by my collar and turned me to face him. I refused to look him in the eye; I must have looked a real mess. He took my chin again forcing me to look into his eyes. I felt so ashamed of my appearance. He had told me I was beautiful so very often and it made me feel so proud when he said it. Now I had let him down by being too complacent. He unclipped the wrist cuffs, reattaching then in front. He said ‘Do you understand what I have told you?’ I nodded. ‘Then get down on your belly on the floor and spread your legs, I haven’t finished with you yet.’ My mind raced, would it be the whip now, on my bottom? I knelt and lay on the floor, my bottom was really stinging and the carpet was rough against my sore nipples, my belly and mons. I spread my thighs wide, dipped my spine and waited. I heard the pop of a tube of lubricant being opened. It wasn’t the whip!! The lube felt cold against my anus as he applied just enough. He undressed, I could feel him looking at my prone body, the line of my sex and the rose of my anus. I was fully exposed because it was how he wanted me to be. He knelt between my thighs and pumped his cock to make the head larger. He spread my bottom cheeks with one hand and pressed his cock against my anus with the other. The tip entered me, it was so uncomfortable. I had forgotten how tight a caning made the cheeks of my bottom clench. He pushed into me, stretching me. I struggled and tried to object; he held me and reminded me of the presence of the whip. Once he was past the muscular ring I relaxed as the discomfort subsided somewhat; I felt the cool of his skin against my hot bottom. He reached and took hold of my hair and collar, pulling them back. At the first slow thrust he said ‘one’. The thrusts were slow and firm, they made my bottom sting though my anus soon adapted to the presence of his cock. He told me to squeeze my buttocks together as he withdrew his cock, and relax as he thrust in. I tried to do so; each time I failed he added two extra thrusts. He was punishing me and reminding me of his dominance by not taking pleasure from the stimulation my anus could give him. It was a reminder that sexual pleasure could not be an excuse for a lack of submission. It was a relief when he reached 100 and stopped counting and thrusting. I was glad he was no longer forcing my nipples against the rough carpet, and his tummy was no longer making my sore bottom sting more. But I immediately missed the closeness and intimacy of the man I so wanted yet had disappointed. He pulled me to my feet by my collar, removed the ball gag and lifted my chin. I must have looked a real mess as I worked my jaw to stop it aching, I certainly felt a mess and I promised him and myself not to let my appearance or behaviour slip again. He kissed me and said he loved me; I’m not sure if it made me feel any better- or if it was supposed to! He led me by the arm into the bathroom and told me to wash his cock and balls. I took a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked horrendous! Mascara running, the marks of the gag around my mouth, spittle around my chin and collar and my nose running! I looked away ashamed as he wet a towel to clean the lube from between my buttocks. He turned me around so my back was to the mirror and rubbed the wet towel firmly between my buttocks, it stung where it touched the red marks.  I heard him say, ‘You have 30 minutes until dinner. Be ready on time.’ I knew that I would make him the proudest man alive when he let me take his arm to dinner. 30 minutes wasn’t long. But I so wanted to see that look of desire in his eyes that I would ensure I was just as he wanted me to be. I knew just how good he would make me feel in return. He went to the veranda to watch the sun set. I set to work, though I did sneak a look at the red marks on my bottom. They made me feel strangely proud because they were his marks and I had submitted to him. He had put them there and there was nothing I could have done about it even if I wanted to. Now I didn’t know what he was going to do with me later, but after being disciplined he always had something special planned for me! 

Name Change as a Sign  Since ancient times names has been a map to knowing people and places. A name is you in sound. Many societies used multiple names to protect the inner soul and very lives of individuals. Certainly secret societies, religions, and associations use name change as a way to signal a change of life and alliances. The ideas of acquiring a new name appears in ancient and sacred texts and invariably signal a deeper commitment and a sign of change and transformation. Part of many rites of passage include after the third step, reintegration, the new name. That is why after such rites people speak about the new person that has emerged after the ritual. The name is then a way to mark ownership, commitment, and deep understanding of the individual’s newly acquired status. We tend to give names to those things and individuals that we possess or at least hold a claim to. The selection and bestowing of a name in those circumstances is a provocative moment in which one end of the equation decides (based on his understanding) the name of the individual to be reborn through the new name. The level of intimacy this act requires and entails will bound both individuals beyond their wildest dreams. In this case the Alpha be one Sir, Lord, Master, etc and the sub will take the neme his superior bestows; and in that moment the bond created will be consummated constantly through the word and specifically through sex. 

Every time i try to update my profile it either gets discarded or just never seems to update, so i am going to try a journal entry. It's hard to believe i could be much more prepared to meet someone for a serious relationship/position, but i continue to work toward it, hoping someone might one day be there for me. In a perfect world, i would find someone that wanted both a genuine relationship and a very regimented M/s life. It would be wonderful to travel and share a life with a Master, living life as His girlfriend, with hormones and 24/7 femme existence. But to also have the M/s dynamic as a backbone of our relationship. Cuddling on the couch, binging a series but all the while wearing a metal collar, chained wrists, chastity, ass plugged. All of the wonderful things of being a spouse but never once having a moment to think that it is "free" of will or choice. Soaking up whatever attention it's owner is willing to give, working every minute for it's opportunity to get a little positive feedback.  

Well, ladies and gents, the holiday season is again upon us. I'm debating with myself whether to invite several friends over once again or just have a quiet, eventless evening at home for Thanksgiving.   Last year I did a 20Lb turkey, in my outdoor air fryer, which turned out much better than I expected. It is a lot of work to put together a huge meal with all the fixings.  I will have to thank my mother when I see her again up yonder for all her work.  Maybe I will link up with a woman who is by herself this season and is seeking a Dom of her own to hold and cherish?  It would be nice going into the holidays and especially Christmas!  If not, I'll go to my church's Christmas Eve candlelight service again. Perhaps there is a woman who would like to spend the holidays with me, and join me for Christmas?   Lost 2 friends this past year and one cousin my age.  LIFE is SHORT and Quickly catches up with us all! 

I have always said I do not want a 24/7 kink relationship.  I fear that I will lose me. The me that I took so long to understand and love.  But I was recently communicating with a Master who was looking for just such a relationship.  My initial thought was I don't want that and we discussed it and that prompted me to do alot more thinking on the matter. I am already seeking someone who can take charge and lead. Someone who can help silence my racing thoughts and set my mind free. Someone who will treat me like the special person I am and bring out my full submission and dedication.  Now I wonder if I am letting my fear hold me back. That is typical for me, to be honest.  Maybe 24/7 is what I need. Maybe I just don't understand my needs.  I wonder if meeting the right person would mean there will be no more questions. Maybe with the right one there would be no question about my full and freely given submission. No more worry about losing a part of myself.  Maybe........ XOXOXO

What I like about being a Bull Sometimes I am asked what I like about being a Bull with a cuckold couple. That is not an easy question to answer, but I’ll try. I’m a dominant person, and always have been. I like being the one in charge. So I naturally tend to find myself at the top of the food chain in every situation. When I’m with a couple there are several elements that appeal to me, which make the relationship more appealing than the traditional boyfriend & girlfriend. First, a married woman is in it for the sex. Her motivations are not unlike ours (men). She is not looking for a relationship (she has one). She is not looking for drama (she wants none). She will not hound you or stalk you or pester you like many single women. With a married woman it’s all about the sex. When you meet with her (or them) there will be little small talk, socializing or wasting time. Sex is on her mind, and it’s everyone's goal. Once her and your sexual cravings are satisfied she will go back home, with or to her husband. It’s perfect for someone like me who enjoys frequent, explosive sex with someone who is only too willing to provide it. So, my first answer is sex, sex and more sex. But there are other sides to it, too. Believe it or not I like helping other couples spice things up. I know Bulls are often painted as selfish, cock-wielding studs that are interested only in themselves, but that’s not usually the case. I, and others like me, enjoy interacting with couples and helping them reignite their flame in the bedroom. Like I mentioned, I am dominant and I enjoy the domination theme. It’s empowering to have a woman offer herself to me, especially when it’s a beautiful married woman who would normally be off-limits to anyone except her husband. Say what you want, but there is something edgy about hitting a pussy that was promised to someone else, especially when the wife is a stone cold fox, and someone you would NEVER suspect of being a submissive slut for another man behind closed doors. Last, I love being dominant over a couple in the husband's presence. There’s something deeply satisfying when I see a husband silently watch me ravage his wife in their marital bed, knowing that he’s getting off on the whole show. Most husbands I know are not submissive. However they do become extremely passive when I assert myself in their presence. Not only does this appeal to me, but I enjoy the wife’s reaction as well. The more passive the husband is the more sexually responsive the wife becomes, and that leads to even better sex. Once you have taken the time to build a good cuckold relationship with the right couple the encounters can become intense, fulfilling and practically addictive. What man would not want that?

How can a str8 male fall in love with his Bull? This is a question that always calls my attention but lately it has become a surprising reality. For a Bull to pursue and obliterate any idea of str8 identity on a self proclaimed heterosexual male is a la or or of love. The Bull knows that this identity is misplaced but to convince the other male of this requires a deep knowledge of the male psyque.  Our society has done much of the work for us, str8 males (I said it before) admire sports figures to the edge of homoerotism. But of course that's admiration and it stops there. These males will follow a strong male to hell and back and allow any sort of intimacy with the leader of the band, actually they crave it. When they finally come to me I know there's a need a need that eventually could turn into love and that is a great feeling. However if one finds a male that is slowly falling in love not only giving you ownership of their bodies but also their feelings; that's a sacred charter that cannot be underestimated. Why? Because that male is into you and your dealings with him you are a model they can submit and surrender to. In short,  you've found a male bride and you must nurture that male and his feelings.  For the str8 male to acknowledge such feelings is confusing because is attraction, lust, respect, and the acknowledgement that he has fallen in love with the man and his phallus; but most of all the character and security it brings to his life. He is now realizing that the best place to be is anywhere his Man places him: between his legs, under him, or on his back awaiting the entry of the phallus that will change his life forever.  As a Bull you know he is yours  anyway you want that however, to the outside only him will feel your power and control. Even if he goes back to women which is an option if they still want to claim his str8 persona, he will mount them imitating you and doing it for you.    I had the pleasure of a baby named after me, and that’s the ultimate surender. It is his baby, now a teen, but every time he calls him he calls me. A male who loves you is a treasure to be had and a partner to nurture and possess beyond the physical.

There is a certain refinement to restraint. I practice it daily. One learns, with time, that composure is far more unsettling than complaint. I am, by inclination, a devoted soul—selectively so. Devotion is not the frantic offering of attention; it is a measured gift, bestowed where presence, consistency, and intention actually reside. Anything less feels dreadfully untidy. I have spent enough years in these spaces to recognize patterns without needing a diagram. Experience has sharpened my eye and dulled my patience for theatrical ambiguity. One doesn’t hunt red flags anymore—they appear on their own, waving politely, hoping to be mistaken for décor. I am not troubled by silence. Silence can be deliberate, even powerful. What does amuse me—quietly, of course—is absence paired with conspicuous visibility elsewhere. One can only be “otherwise occupied” for so long before the choreography gives itself away. Multitasking is admirable, but clarity remains preferable. A submissive observes. She does not rush. She does not plead for coherence. She notes, she assesses, and—when necessary—she withdraws her attention with impeccable manners. Confusion is not mystique. It is merely poor communication wearing a better outfit. If I kneel, it will be with certainty. If I offer devotion, it will be to steadiness, not spectacle. Until then, I remain poised, discerning, and faintly entertained. Devoted, yes. Naïve, no.

My BDSM test results: https://sexualalpha.com/kink-result-page-new/?id=s5kivdd4kf2m7tocn63vukfnnp# My Etsy wishlist: (not begging for presents, just thought you'd like to see what I'm looking at...I love weird toys/devices so recommendations are always welcome 😁 https://www.etsy.com/people/atomteacher1/favorites/mistresss-wishlist Some musical artists I appreciate: Websites (edit) https://youtube.com/watch?v=uGjCUY59B_0&feature=sharehttps://youtube.com/watch?v=TFlaULuBVZY&feature=sharehttps://youtube.com/watch?v=TX7ynXyPQsE&feature=sharehttps://youtu.be/RPOt33-jWRwhttps://youtu.be/kmzdZTqeoqshttps://youtu.be/rLi4MAQhfsohttps://youtu.be/EFwWLnAg9mwhttps://youtu.be/14Bbe00hkgwhttps://youtu.be/ExF2jwBXAiwhttps://youtu.be/kHNCHjmFSckhttps://youtu.be/UgKNP8GHnuk