The change is real on this platform.  Remade an account and scrolled through some profiles.  I feel as though that was a mistake altogether.  I loved the profiles that displayed individuals who could not take care of themselves making demands of various subs.  Those were my favorite.  If you are unwilling to take care of yourself, your health, your diet, your life...allow me to enlighten you please, You Have No Room to Demand Anything of Anyone as a presumed "Dom."  My goodness, I felt like I was going through a Kinder class asking all the kids what they wanted to be when they grew up.  I honestly originally came back on this platform because I remembered years ago reading a post of someone asking for a partner to dance with.  This was obviously not the typical dance though.  This dance was masked dance where the user wished to find a dance partner that would never see their face.  They would never be revealed to the Sub, however they would know literally everything about the Sub.  If and when the Dom was ready to have playtime with the Sub, they would still never even see their face.  Im into masks, not the normal kind.  Im a sapiosexual to a degree.  I value the investment of control.  Im curious.  Honestly, I wish that Dom found someone to dance with, because that honestly sounds like one hell of a dance.  Its fucking hot, dangerous af, but hot. https://www.collarspace.com/personals/v/2923761/details.htm

Ladies - feel free to contact Me anytime to discuss your experiences here with the unfavorables.  I have an open door policy when it comes to protecting our interests and there are some parasites here who make it their lifes work to penetrate our defenses  in an effort to conquer through deception.  It is a rotten business and sours the landscape for honest and true relationships with men of distinction here. I was reading some journal entries of other dominant women and was alarmed at the amount of similarities to their journeys here.  Are we all speaking to the same men/man?  Its a fact that Mr. Mindf*ck is spreading his disinformation seed all over.  So I have started reaching out to other women.  Do you hear that you VOCATIONAL  POS PARASITE?  One way or another, you will find your breeding grounds drying up. You messed with a very nice but very dogged lady and while I forgive, I never forget an injustice.  So while you are creating or discharging both submissive and dominant entities, I will continue to contact other women and asking for them to reach out to Me if they wish to exchange notes.  Mind you, we too have form letters, so dont get your hopes up that energy is being spent on you - energy is being spent protecting women from predators such as yourself and energy is being spent in sisterhood ensuring men of worth have clear passage. Time to buckle up boys, Mama's Got a Brand New Bag!  Good luck! lol

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.  

Imagine a wedding chapel and the room is filled with men and women we know. You're wearing a handsome Groom suit or wedding dress Then the doors open and you see me. Im in a see through sissy slutty bride outfit with a veil over my face. You can clearly see my fresh nipples are clamped with tiny bells or weights.     Im wearing a see through skirt with my dick locked up in a chastity cage or a cock ring leash. In my pussy is a white dildo to match my attire as I try to walk down the lane to you.   Once we meet you take off my veil to see my dressed up face.    The pastor asks you if I am taken as your slutty sissy and will torture and pleasure me until you no longer desire me.    The pastor then asks me is I the bride will promise to pleasure my master and be his sissy doll and slut until I am no longer usable and I say I do.   Once its done we exchange rings. You uncage me and put it on my small cock. While I put your ring in my mouth and use my skills to put it on your cock.    The pastor then announces is master and slut. Then says the slut may now suck his masters cock. I then suck it until you pop in my mouth and I swallow it in pleasure.   You then take me by force, remove the dildo from my pussy and fuck my pussy in front of everyone as they watch it pleasure.   You then let out a big one in my pussy for everyone to see and I open my pussy with your special sauce dripping out as everyone takes photos and I suck your cock in pleasure.   During the reception we dance, eat, drink, engage in sensual games, and you even let the other guests have their way with me if they desire.   Then it ends with the 🎂, but its me with whip cream on all my parts. All the men and ladies take out their cocks and spray me with their cream to help me look better as you enjoy seeing me like this.    Then we end with a group photo with me holding up 2 peace ✌️ signs on my hand, covered from top to bottom with the wedding cake cream, and you doing whatever you want to me.   My ideal wedding as a bride. 👰‍♀ 

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

AcadaMay CFNM Party Dates For years women have been sexually objectified in magazines, on social media and in daily life. But what happens when the rôles are reversed, what happens when the tables are turned and men are objectified by women? Most alternative events objectify women, but there is one particular event that reverses the rôles. This is the Clothed Female, Naked Male party. CFNM by definition gives the power back!  If you wish to attend any of the events please do contact me here to be sent details about where to apply.  AcadaMay CFNM Ladies Tea Party When: Saturday 02 November Time: 4pm  AcadaMay CFNM Couples Tea Party When: Saturday 16th November Time: 4pm            

Why we aren't drowning in playmates. Playmate/ submissive playtoy - someone we like enough to interact with, who either comes to provide service, or kink, or some combination of both. I was asked how often I get this. Someone else asked "where are the success stories?" Why I have so many stories about the failures. If we have a fun playmate, that's private, unless they are comfortable having their kinky fun splayed all over the net. I post about the failures, usually in my group, to help future readers figure out what NOT to do. What my limits are and why, and ideally how to avoid fucking up with Dommes in their own searches. Now, the first question - how often? Seldom. And here's why - We have spent a lot of time working on ourselves on many levels for many years, to become better, mentally/emotionally/spiritually healthier human beings in general, which unfortunately has the problematic side effect of causing one to have a lower tolerance for people who haven't done that work. And as was said in Star Trek Next Generation - "the higher, the fewer." The more you level yourself up, the higher the standards you try to live by, the better the human being you try to be, the fewer people you will be able to be around. The fewer people will be tolerable. The fewer people will be able to understand you when you talk about anything more than the weather. The more you work on yourself, the more alone you will be. Then again, the more you work on yourself, the more you will like your own company, and the more you will prefer being alone to being with the wrong people. People who aren't automatically honest, who don't work toward direct, open communication as the default, people who don't make every effort to say only what they mean, and stick to what they do say, people who don't self-analyze and self-correct and so on. People who can't or won't set healthy boundaries. And so on. All of these things create practical problems, (lying, STDs, flaking, anger issues, failure to respect limits or requirements, etc) as well as emotional stress. All of these things impact consent, safety, and trust. All of these things are solely under the control of the individual, and while we can set the boundary that we won't engage in interactions with them unless they commit to them, the average person isn't actually interested in or concerned with being a better person beyond lip service, or even to getting their kink on enough to make the work worth it for them, even if it would make their entire lives better in the long run. It's almost impossible to have real conversation with people like that, too. We just don't seem to speak the same language anymore, and we get people telling us how we are "taking (ourselves) too seriously" or accusing us of being stuck up and putting on airs. The reality is that we just don't want to deal with the problems that dysfunctional people bring with them anymore. And if we never find another really awesome people to play with because of that, we still come out ahead, because we won't have trash people fucking up our lives. Not to put too fine a point on it.

Based on a previous relationship some time ago: Saturday Night Sunday Morning   It’s raining outside and I curse it for keeping me awake, a lie to myself as I know I never really sleep when you are out. I reach to turn on the light beside the bed and am reminded of the lock you have on me as it rubs my upper thigh. The clock tells me it’s coming upto 2:30 in the morning.   I roll onto my back wondering if you are asleep in the bed you have chosen for the evening, asleep in the arms of another. Or perhaps not asleep, in which case you will be ……….. occupied.   I try to put those thoughts out of my mind, and fail.   Thoughts of you crowd my mind whenever you are from me, thoughts of the curve of your thigh, the look in your in your eye, the taste of you, the way your waist tapers just above your hips, god that makes you so fuckable.   It’s coming up to three in the morning now and I have convinced myself that you are asleep after your exertions.   Your exertions…….. I can’t stop thinking of what you could be doing with whoever he is, in my mind’s eye I see you on all fours with your back arched receiving him your face wracked with the pure pleasure of it, I have seen that look when you are approaching the peak of your orgasm. It’s an addictive sight and a special reward for the man who gives it to you.   I decide to get up and get myself something, descending to the kitchen in a bath robe. With each step I take on the stairs I feel the weight of your restraining lock on me. It’s been ten days now and I have never felt so ripe, kept swollen and aching for you right down to the root of me.   In the kitchen I can see the dark rain running down the window panes as I make myself a cup of tea, coffee would be such a bad move right now.   I sit on a kitchen stool looking at a picture of you laughing and smiling with friends, the image captured is a night out and you are looking so elegant, so beautiful so enticing.   As I sip my tea I find myself gazing at your smile, you have such beautiful lips. My eyes follow their curve to the corners of your mouth. I feel myself absorbed in your every detail.   I love kissing you, feeling you on my lips, your wet tongue penetrating my mouth. One of those intimacy fixes that I crave so desperately. I can’t keep at bay the thought of how those lips have been occupied this evening.   I finish my tea and wash out the cup placing it on the drainer.   The rain seems to be subsiding, with daylight but a short time away I turn out the light and return to bed.   It’s nearly four in the morning and I find myself curled up around a pillow, every now and then rocking my hips into it, but it just makes me ache more.   As I close my eyes I feel so desperate for you to return to me.   The first few hours of dawn have past before the sun has risen to the point where it shines through the window and wakes me. It’s bright and shiny and fresh, the only signs of the nights rain is the dark wet dampness of the soil.   I look at the clock it’s nearly nine thirty, so I rise with a degree of haste to wash, shave and brush my teeth. Before donning my bathrobe again and descending once more into the kitchen.   As I am buttering my toast I hear you come through the door and my heart skips a beat. It’s that cusp of turmoil with thoughts of how you have spent your evening competing with the joy of your return to me.   I hear your heels clicking towards the kitchen as I turn towards the door, seeing you framed in the doorway, hair loosely brushed, braless under your blouse, a flush of red to your cheeks and a coy smile adorning your lips.   You walk upto me placing a hand behind my neck a fingertip or two running back and forth over that spot that you know makes my knees buckle. You hold my gaze for what feels like an eternity looking into my soul through my eyes. I can’t help but lower my gaze and look at your lips before you kiss me.   Its deep, passionate, consuming and ……….. musky.   Your other hand slips into my bathrobe as your fingers fondle the lock you have placed on me. I can’t help but give out a small gasp. As you break away from me.   “Make me a cuppa darling will you” you say as you turn to walk into the living room. I watch you from behind as you walk back through the doorway once again framed, your perfect silhouette accentuated in heels, hold up stockings and a short skirt.   Minutes later I follow you into the living room with a tray laden with cups and pots and hot toast, you are sat on the sofa with your phone texting someone.   As I place the tray on the coffee table you lower your phone, reach forward and take me by the arm. You are smiling and bring me towards you pulling down my arm indicating that you want me to take my position kneeling before you. My body slips into compliance as I kneel looking up at you.   You start to stroke my face and I feel my head tilting to feel your full caress.   “Mmm nice shave” you say as you grip my chin with your fingers tilting my head up as you lean forward and kiss me once again a slow roving kiss with your tongue exploring my mouth as your hand slips behind my head. Your lips slip away from mine “mmm you taste minty fresh” you say.   I am just gazing up at you lost in your eyes.   You lean forward and whisper into my ear “he dropped me off at the door darling, he found our place very easily” before returning to kiss me with passion and purpose. You disengage and then whisper in my other ear.   “I sucked him off in the car before he left”.   The deep pang that it creates in me is merged with my overwhelming desire for you and I feel lost, not knowing which way to turn.

Don't ask me for my number when we first chat   As a dominant myself, I have often encountered situations where people assume that just because I am dominant, I am always looking for new submissives and will readily share my personal information with anyone who asks. This could not be further from the truth. Being a dominant is not just about controlling and dominating others; it is also about respecting boundaries and building trust with a submissive partner.   When someone asks me for my number or contact information without even getting to know me, it not only shows a lack of respect for boundaries but also highlights a lack of understanding about the dynamics of a dominant-submissive relationship. As a dominant, I take the responsibility of my partner's physical and emotional well-being very seriously, and I cannot fulfill that responsibility with just anyone who asks for my number.   Another reason I am hesitant to give out my personal information to someone I have just met is that it takes time to build trust and establish a connection with a potential partner. BDSM is not just about physical acts; it involves a deep level of trust and understanding between partners. As a dominant, I need to know that my partner understands and respaspects my boundaries, and vice versa. This level of trust and understanding cannot be achieved through a simple exchange of phone numbers.   Moreover, just because I am a dominant does not mean I am always looking for new partners. Like anyone else, I have a life outside of BDSM and have other interests and responsibilities. Asking for my number without getting to know me first shows a lack of regard for my personal life and boundaries.   It is also essential to note that being a dominant does not mean that I am immune to rejection or unwanted advances. Just like anyone else, I have the right to choose who I want to engage with and who I do not. Asking for my number without even getting to know me is not only disrespectful but also puts me in an uncomfortable position.   In conclusion, just because someone identifies as a dominant does not mean they are always on the lookout for new partners or willing to share their personal information with strangers. As with any relationship, trust and mutual understanding take time to develop. So, if you are interested in getting to know a dominant, take the time to build a connection and respect their boundaries. Only then can you expect them to share their personal information with you.

Sweet DreamsI want to see loveI want to feel it's touch me softly across face at firstI want to smell love ,the way you smell the gulf before you see itI want to treat it on my dry lips and have it hug my soulI speak of things I know cause I once felt that kind of love A warm day many years ago ,time really don't matter it is just my floating pass, things I can't touch or remember well or just the parts, that make my old world part of my new oneBut love I remember how it left the teat in my lips like salt ,not like one you get from table salt but you get when you eat something that was made with sugar and salt, fist the sweet treat and the the salt that brings you back slowlyI love being in the world where air is lighter and it is hard to keep your feet on the ground , your love songs touch you deeper and food treat better,all of this is because you feel loveYes I do love to feel that nothing can go wrong and maybe she/he feels the same , that they will see brighter colors and the would will seem cleaner , and maybe just maybe the world wants to show it all to you and can act like you're seeing it for the first time.And sometime dreams are all we have, dream it will get better,dream that someone will understand you,dream that people will stop thinking you're a fool, dreams are the one thing we can count on, they will always be there.To us when no one will not, to hug us when we need a hug and to love us no matter what.Clayborne Arno HarrisApr 11, 2019

Time to put out another...message in a bottle.  If you are going to contact me;  Be polite. Politeness costs your nothing. And it shows manners.  Be consistant. If you want to know all about me, and ask questions, then reply to my responses in a timely manner. If you don't have further interest, kitten is a big girl and you can just say so.  Be honest. I don't want to have to ask you 50 questions to finally get you to fill in the bigger picture of your wants and needs, OK? We can be flirty and fun and joke around, but we both should have an appreciation for and skill in using direct honesty. Be informed. Did you read my profile and my journals before contacting me? Fantastic! That's the best place to start!  I will, of course, be the same! I'm looking for someone wonderful and sexy just like you!  Thanks in advance!   

Let's talk about skin care and smelling good Morning Routine: Cleansing: I start my day with a mild cleanser to freshen up my face. It’s essential to remove any impurities that may have settled overnight. Toning: After cleansing, I use a soothing toner. This helps in balancing the skin's pH and prepares it for the next steps.

 Looking4boy2own 

why do people play these stupid games... I thought I had an interested (local) sub that wanted my ideal D/s relationship... well... he decided he's "...too pretty to be a sub, and wants to go to California to get with a modeling agency..." I didn't tell him that I used to model and stilll have connections... why should I? I thanked him for leading me on and blocked him on all media... Okay that's over... was back at the gym today for the first time in a bit, lot's going on and been sick so BOO!!!!! Did dead lifts for the first time in a long time (maybe 2-3 months?) 235 pound, 5 reps... not bad still not back up to my record but not bad! Left the gym, went to the grocery store (I see enchiladas in my future...) and came home only to find myself bored... I made my drag performer friend a mix, then decided today was a good day to make BBQ Sauce... oooops... 3 kinds... BBQ, Sweet & Spicy, and Hot... my son came by as I was just starting so I had him help... he's jealous that he can't take any home with him... oh well... time to find my next project... maybe I'll go out back and get that firepit started...