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

It amazes me, it really does, of how stupid people on here must think most of us are, they try to insult our integrity,  who we are, what we are about and when they don't get their way ,they start insulting you,  they start using all kinds of nasty language, thinking that is going to actually affect us personally. Opening up an email  as they try to degrade you for their own shortcoming's, with you basically saying no, move on. I have lived this way for over 42 years, almost 43 years and yes, I did that when I was still in the service, I did that when I was still working a job with Uncle Sam. I did all of it at the same time. All without compromising my standards integrity or anyone elses. I  have nothing to f****** prove to anybody. Those who keep playing the games are going to continue to play the games and be more dissatisfied,  as life moves ever foward.  Myself and others like me are going to continue to  build what we do and live the way we do, life goes on.   it is why I require 1st meet up with potential candidates. I require candidates to live by the same standards as I do. Speak the truth br trustworthy,trustworthy, honest even if you have baggage, we all do being upfront no matter means more. You know sooner or later I'll catch you in a lie and once you lie to me,  it neans I can't trust you, if I can't trust you, I'm sure as hell not going to allow anyone else's to put at risk my life, my families life, and those  who are part of what we are about.   I ask simple questions, most never bother to anwser. Those who seek  real BDSM  understand,  it is about being of service not being served. Even those on the owner side of things has Responcibillities. TPE  is pretty simple.  

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.

It takes time and patience to get to know one another online, whether you are the submissive or the dominant.  Once common desires and interests are established, then further exploration of a possible relationship can continue.  As discussion continues a level of trust can be established allowing further exploration of a possible relationship.  The following is what I will require up to meeting in person as the Dominant. 1.    Be Honest:  I am willing to share personal information about myself, my past and my experience in the lifestyle.  I will always be truthful with you.  I expect the same from you. 2.    Communicate:  Initially, communication starts via email messages and/or text messages on an internet platform.  As humans, we struggle to communicate face to face much less via written messages or texts where we read emotions into the written words whether that was the intent or not.  We do not all have the same level of writing skills and things can be misunderstood very easily via written words.  Remember that listening (or reading) is a major part of communication and one word answers does not qualify as communication. 3.     Be Available:  Given that the internet allows us to connect with anyone in the world, it is important to be able to communicate on a regular basis, especially during the exploration of a possible relationship.  We all have different work or life schedules and we may even be in different time zones, but it is important to establish a time to communicate with one another. After common lifestyle interests are discussed and initial levels of trust are established, be prepared to share photos and that does not necessarily mean nude photos.  Mutual attraction definitely is beneficial moving forward.  We live in a vanilla world and you should be prepared to discuss those topics also… unless your desire is be in chains in a dungeon for the rest of your life.  LOL 4.     Verification:  Once it looks like a relationship could be developed, be prepared to have discussions via phone and video calls.  This is about verifying that you are real person and that you are ready to communicate at the next level.  This is NOT about having naked cyber sessions… again it is the evolution of communication and developing trust. As note, I have even had scammers verify themselves via video calls, only to learn later that they needed money, for whatever reason you can imagine. 5.    Financial Situation:  It is important for both parties to understand the financial situation of the other person at a high level.  It does not mean disclosing how much money that you have in the bank.  The next step in the development of the relationship would include meeting face to face.  It is highly likely that could mean travel, which equates to dollars for one person or both.  Will the expenses associated with a face to face meeting be the responsibility of one person or shared equally?  This has to be discussed.  

Nothing can be gained without losing.Even heaven demands death.One day, someone is going to walk into your lifeand make you realize exactly why itnever worked out with anyone else.It'll be ovious in the way he shows up,chooses you, prot ects you, and guides you.

I had my 15 month post cancer treatment scope.  The one where they stick the scope up your nose then down in to your throat and look around to check if the tissue is still healthy and take pictures to see if anything has changed.  And it's all still good.  Nine months until I am past the most dangerous period for it to come back, but not totally out of the woods until 5 year mark.  Still getting stronger, except for my right shoulder.  Haven't had a dizzy spell in almost a month.  The effects of radiation can last up t about 18 months, so I am at 15 months and am almost starting to not feel like I'm 80 anymore.  Maybe going to the gym a few times a week and losing 20 more pounds has helped as well.  15 pounds to go to hit 160.  I haven't weighed 160 since I was in my 30s.  Can running my 6th marathon be far off?  A man has to have goals.  Maybe if the right woman was chasing me with a whip.....  

If you've been a longtime follower or avid reader of my journal, you may remember a particular set of rocks on my drive to work that form a heart at a precise moment. That little section of land would sometimes flood when it rained and some portion of the lower part of the heart would be covered. Being the rarely logical and often magical person that I am, I attached direct meaning to my own heart. If the rock heart was partially underwater, maybe my heart was also having a hard time. Sometimes it worked out to be true. Sometimes I thought maybe it was predicting things to come. Likewise, beautiful days and whole hearts meant it would all be okay.  Over the years that little section of land has permanently flooded. It really bothered me at first, having my heart underwater all the time. I've had emotional ups and downs and sometimes it feels like I'll never resurface. Driving by every day, with visual confirmation that my heart is perpetually sinking, well, it doesn't make for a bright start to the morning.  And then there were motherfucking ducks.  I honestly was pissed off, how dare they benefit from my heartache? Swimming around, creating ripples, it just didn't seem right. The other day I realized I have started looking for the ducks. I've noticed how the, I'm just going to call it the heart lake, has taken on more ground. It looks as if it's always been there. Maybe it's not so bad. Maybe I can give my heart lake back to nature because I'm certainly not going to drown. I look for hearts elsewhere sometimes. In leaves, in puddles, somewhere nature might offer me a trade. When I see them I smile. 

It has been years since I've been on here. I left because the ability to journal was no longer an option. Apparently it has been restored!! This past Summer someone who first viewed me here, found me on Fet.  He remembered my profile and reached out. I was not looking to find someone. And pretty much saw  myself as content to be alone. It was a fluke that I went on Fet , after 1.5 years. Just as I am on here for several years away.  Presently,  I am in a lovely dynamic, with a very good Dom.  He and I see the world and more through  similar lenses. While a new dynamic, I feel so comfortable.  We fit. It is not easy to find someone who has similar,  faith, politics, perspective on D/s , and compatibility, as well as have vanilla life be a great fit too. We have found the needle in the stack of needles!    I appreciate this man very much, and can see myself with him , I can see a future. Tony I am yours, through thick and thin,  I have your 6 and feel the same. You have my heart ❤    M.

Awaken to gentle licks upon my labia and the tickle of your facial hair on my inner thighs  You knowing my body and realizing that sucking my clit is not what gets me going  But that gentle tongue massage on my lower lips causes me to softly moan and drip with wetness  I'm in the euphoria of emotional bliss  Slow intense grinding along with the need to run  I'm about to explode  What a way to wake up,  as the main course I've trained you well and you know how to please  Now, I will lay you back, tie you up, or leave you free  I know before I'm done you'll be screaming please!

I am tired of let people in....  I feell stupid for trusting.  I'm tired of finally letting my walls down, opening up and to someone who has such a special and major important role in my life.. only to be discarded at the slightest change of mood.  People just don't care what it does to a person.  My feelings.. matter.. I am who I say I am.. Some people want to just form a judgment and assumption of me unfairly and to disregard my truth because they find some created idea in their mind to be more legitimate.  So they pick manufactured fiction formed by their imagination... over the facts and truth from the source.. yeah.. that makes a whole lot of sense huh..   I think I need to learn that if someone wants to believe the worst about me, then they were looking for an excuse.  I just want to say these men who message me deep and all acting like they care for me or my well being and like they have my back and talk to me every day and block me over nothing??  Please do not put me through this and play games with me.. Please.  I have been through enough and you have no care for the emotional hell and self loathing and mind fuckery you leave me to stew in..  My mental health matters and there is no need to lead me on and let me drop.  I need to keep putting myself out there to find the right one for me, but the fallout from the disbelief and hurt and confusion.. It makes me feel an absolute fool for believing someone who seemed genuine with a real interest in me..  That's a mind fuck.  My psyche cannot keep taking this kind of unfair and immature mistreatment.     Please... I just want someone real, for once.  Not put on or an act or manipulation.  Just be real.  

Still looking but not impatient, actually rather grateful plenty of me time and busy with work. I have to admit I have had a few people show an interest and I have had to admit I am not attracted to them. You can tell by a picture, eve if you tried it would not last. Still looking for someone outdoorsy. Still looking for someone in London but I travel a lot so flexible. Finally planning a little annual leave and Ireland is happening. I kind of would like to meet someone interesting, avoiding PE teachers, men who work in ICT (snore) there has got to be some pleasure seeking interesting specimens so I will wait but will not hold my breath, will explore the world and my own potential and if you happen to pass by great if not, I was not holding my breath.

On Realistic Expectations and the Woman You Are Serving   Let me be plain with you, because plainness here is a kindness and I have never been interested in the alternative. I attended a funeral last weekend. Alone.  I want to sit with that for a moment before I say anything else, because it is the most precise illustration I could offer of everything this journal is about. There is a specific and particular indignity in navigating grief in public without someone beside you. Not because I cannot do it, I can do anything alone, I have proven this repeatedly and without fanfare. But because a woman like me should not have to. Because the presence of a devoted and capable partner at your side during the hardest moments of ordinary life is not a luxury. It is what partnership is for. It is, in fact, one of the most fundamental things a serious dynamic should provide: someone who stands beside you in the moments that cost you something, who carries the social weight of difficult occasions, who is simply and solidly there so that you can grieve or endure or simply get through the day without also having to do it visibly alone. I disdain it. I will not dress that up. I disdain walking into rooms full of people as a woman unaccompanied, not because my worth requires a witness, but because I have built enough of a life to deserve someone who shows up for it completely, including the parts that are not beautiful or exciting or charged with the particular electricity of our dynamic. The funeral is not glamorous. It is not a candlelit dinner or a weekend in Greece. It is a Saturday in grief clothes standing in a room full of loss, and I will do it with my back straight and my composure intact because that is who I am, and I will come home to an empty house afterward, and I will feel the absence of what should be there with the specific sharpness of something that is missing rather than something that never existed. This is what I mean when I talk about realistic expectations cutting in both directions. I am a mother first. This is not a disclaimer. It is not an apology. It is the organizing fact of my life around which everything else, including you, arranges itself. I have two children in their preteen years, which anyone who has raised children knows is one of the most demanding and most critical seasons of a young person's life. They require my presence, my attention, my emotional availability, my time, and my energy in quantities that do not leave a remainder to be distributed according to your preferences. If you have arrived here expecting a Goddess with unlimited hours and frictionless availability, you have arrived at the wrong door. This weekend, I had my children.  My time was spent on them, because it is exactly where that time should be spent.  I am also finishing my education, because I am a woman who does not stop building herself simply because life has become complex. I work. I manage a household. I carry the particular and invisible weight that women carry, the planning and the anticipating and the holding of a thousand threads simultaneously, the mental labor that has no clock-out time and no weekend. What this means for you practically is something I need you to hear completely before you decide whether this life is what you actually want or simply what you have romanticized from a comfortable distance. My time is not abundant. It is finite and it is precious and it is allocated with the precision of someone who cannot afford to waste it. There will be days, entire stretches of days, where the children need me and school demands me and work requires me and what is left over is not nothing but it is quiet and it is mine and I will spend it restoring myself rather than managing your need for attention. This is not neglect. This is the reality of serving a woman with a full and serious life, and if you cannot hold yourself with dignity and purpose during those stretches then you are not the caliber of person this dynamic requires. A serious long term FLR TPE with a woman like me is not a constant performance of dominance and submission playing out in real time every hour of every day. It is a structure. It is an understanding so deeply embedded in the way we live that it does not require constant activation. It runs underneath everything, informing how the household operates, how decisions are made, how resources are allocated, how your time and energy are directed even when I am at a school pickup or a study session or simply in a bath with the door closed and my phone face down. Your place in this dynamic is to raise me. Not in the sense that I require raising. In the sense that your devotion, your service, your resources and your effort should be oriented toward elevating my life, reducing my load, creating space around me so that I can be the mother, the student, the professional, and the Goddess that I am without the additional friction of a partner who has become another item on my list of things to manage. You are not here to add to my weight. You are here to carry some of it. That means the household runs because you run it. It means my children's lives are easier because our home is stable and managed and full of the kind of calm that only exists when someone competent is handling the infrastructure of daily life with care. It means you have found your purpose and your structure in the service itself, not in the moments of explicit dynamic play, because those moments are real but they are not the whole of what this is. The whole of what this is lives in the Tuesday afternoon when I have a deadline and a tired child and you have already handled dinner and the house is quiet and I can do what I need to do because you have made space for it. It lives in the Saturday morning of a funeral when I do not have to walk in alone. That is the submission I am describing. Not the aesthetic of it. The actual weight-bearing practice of it, daily, in the ordinary moments that make up most of a life. The grief clothes and the school pickups and the late study nights and the hard weekends. The presence that does not require the occasion to be significant in order to show up for it completely. If you can find your satisfaction there, in the real and unglamorous work of elevating another person's existence, then you understand something essential about what I am offering and what I require. The collar and the candlelight exist. They are real and they are extraordinary. But they rest on a foundation of consistent, intelligent, humble service that asks nothing of me except that I receive it well. I receive it very well. But you have to bring it first, and bring it correctly, and bring it to the funeral as readily as you bring it to the beautiful moments, because the funeral is where it counts the most and the beautiful moments are easy. I am worth the patience. I am worth the long view. I am worth showing up for on the hard Saturdays. The question is whether you are the person who actually does.

Dominus Mea SacramentumMente, cordis, et CorpusServitium cum HonorePraeceptum est mi

The grass is greener on the other side. Met someone normal from this site. Both very busy working professionals but seem to be orbiting which is not a bad thing just waiting to align a little. Meeting someone normal makes you look at this site a little differently. Your not dissappointed by the odd time waster because your time has no longer been wasted. Your hopeful about a possible relationship now being closer to one that might have some sort of functionality in a modern busy working professionals relationship. Makes you not want to advertise your vexes with the site but merely observe and let not affect you anymore.   - The grass is greener on the other side.

In shadows deep where secrets lie, A man of strength, beneath the sky, Dominance etched upon his face, Yet hidden yearnings seek their place.   He walks with power, commands the air, Yet dreams of moments soft and rare, Of tender hands and whispered might, Of yielding to her gentle light.   She stands before him, eyes aglow, A force of nature, soft and slow, In her presence, he finds release, His iron will begins to cease.   For in her gaze, he finds his home, No longer does he need to roam, To her, he gives his crown and throne, Under her strength, he's not alone.   He surrenders all, his power and pride, And kneels before her, nothing to hide, In submission's sweet and tender grace, He finds his true and rightful place.   Her touch is soft, yet holds command, A gentle force, a guiding hand, She leads him to a world unseen, There is strength and softness and inbetween.   In yielding to her, he is free, A paradox of strength to be, Her words, a balm, her voice, a song, Under her power, where he belongs.   Sometimes bound by iron chains, He feels the strenght of her reign, In her dominion, he is whole, She claims his heart, she owns his soul.   For in her power, he finds peace, A harmony that will not cease, In sweet submission, he is known, Her slave at rest, underneath her throne.    

I am a humble Mistress.I come from humble beginnings that led to spending large amounts of my life in my own head with limited trust in others.Neglect.I'm very new to understanding what that really means and how deeply it has shaped me.I think, on some level, I look for the spirit of a man who can see his future partner at her best, at her worst......and everywhere in between.The whole package.Someone who trusts that she works harder than anyone else at freeing the bonds within herself so she can radiate the light she was meant to shine. I'm less likely to continue surface-level chatter, though I'll use it when I'm spinning too many plates.The kind of friends where, if I visited their home, they'd already have the St. Andrew's Cross waiting for me, a place to sleep, breakfast in the morning...I'm frequently busy with work or entertaining potential submissives (just the way it is).  If there's delay in response, this is most likely the cause.  I do try to get back to everyone.  However, sometimes, I miss people or do not respond because there's real lack of effort in even saying anything in your letter to me. I live a busy, interesting, full, and engaging life— in abundance or scarcity. I am, and will be for the foreseeable future, deeply engaged in personal healing and development.  For those of you that think all of that should be in my past and not cloud my present?  I think you're parcially correct.  I also believe part of it will unfold naturally, as is realistic, for the rest of my life.  I'm looking in part for a partnership we can point out, when misbehaving, questioning where the behavior is coming from and not taking things so personally so as not to hurt each other mentally or emoationally. I'm looking for someone who supports what I need to propel me toward what's calling me in this season of my life.A life that blends vanilla and kink.I know it's damn near impossible to find that in the vanilla world.Then stack BDSM on top of it?I've been out here long enough.We'll know it when we've found it. I've built a solid track record of moving myself in the right direction.I can only imagine the heights with the right connection and support from an adoring partnerMy number one love language is words of affirmation.

I've been into BDSM D/s for more years that I care to count. You'd find me to be a bit outdoorsy, I own a boat.. enjoy fishing, being outside and all that offers. At the same time, I consider myself well read.. a CNNaholic. .. (liberal politics, for what that's worth to you).. and I have a well worn library card. As a Dominant, it is among my joys to be able to stimulate a submissive mind.. to help conjure new ideas.. new feelings... I like to be creative. I'm not as much an analyzer, as I am a decision maker. Not that I'm quick to jump to a conclusion.. but.. I'm decisive. I tend to not waiver or vascillate. Over the years, I've considered myself a Master .. a Dominant.. and, sometimes, a Daddy. I like all three, and have learned much about myself. I'd welcome an opportunity to correspond with you about mutual interests.Thanks.

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

7/10/2023 It's been a long time since I updated my profile or made a journal entry so thought I would catch up a bit. I found my mate or rather she found me one evening when we were both online and onsite here. She made a snarky comment about my then profile picture which had one of my pack llamas in it. We started yacking back and forth and 3 days later met on a local walking trail with our dogs and have been together ever since. We live together in a monogamus M/s 1950s lifestyle. She takes care of me full time and I provide the income, roof over our heads and security. I retired 3 years ago so no more alarm clocks and 12 hour commute/work days! We go camping with our tent trailer either across the mountains or to the ocean several times a year. We have been going on long road trip vacations to National Parks every year or two. Last Year was a 4 week trip to 6 National Monuments and 5 National Parks in Oregon, Idaho and Utah. Lots of Lava, caves, arches, spires, hoodoos and canyons! We've been together coming up on 9 years now since we met on that walking trail. We will be together for the rest of our lives! Not bad HUH!!!

Something must be wrong with me I have wandered out amongst the wolves lately... I kinda knew what would happen but like everyone, I hoped for different... I hoped to find that hidden jewel standing in the shadows like I typically do, alas fools gold emerged... In my submission the power dynamic is very important, ( I do voice this upon meeting) I think it’s taken with a grain of salt but I communicate and try to warn of my insecure Self Protective Dominant Nature... I scream that I live my vanilla life in Top Space, I live there everyday, I have responsibilities there, deadlines, decisions, must do’s and I hold myself accountable to be all things and do all things... I can be quite aggressive in this world ( I’ve learned to live in ). I’m not sure these days if I’m actually conveying this or if it’s in my head .... Like a movie that plays in the background while you are thinking or doing something else. You say your a Dominant / Master or even Top... I say I’m looking for a part time arrangement because I’m married in an open relationship... He is not a Dominant / Master however he is my Alpha. I am given free license to fulfill my cravings as long as it doesn’t interfere with my marriage... ( I will admit pretty cool and I’m thankful) I love my Husband and I do serve him too ... not sure he understands it all the time but if it wasn’t for my submission to him, I would have ran a long time ago... He holds very strong with me and he does remind me of who is in charge... I then advise of my personality and my need to relinquish control but that a foundation must be built with me due to needing to trust you. I advise you about my role in my everyday life... Yes there is a lot about me ( sorry I’m so complicated) Then we start to get to know one another ... You agree this can be accomplished ... (Maybe in wishful thinking, we all have periods of that) you read my journals I’m open and honest with you. I speak of my short comings honestly I understand I’m a lot to take on ... I try to be as good as possible until you start to ask me questions or speak about techniques you don’t understand .... I try to explain. What I know ... I find out you have done no research in the lifestyle and have not reached out to anyone / or attended anything. The Power Dynamic shifts due to your lack of knowledge and I become the teacher .... Things then fall apart for me, I try to rationalize you are human and give you allowances for that .... but no I have periods of top space that go unchecked ... things crumble This is my journey ... this is why I walk away ... This is why you might see me out and then I disappear... I love this lifestyle but I will say it is the hardest thing to understand in my life... Each time this happens it takes a lot of me, leaving me empty, sad and like something is wrong with me .... Tags: (add) Aug 15, 2018

As I'm sitting here thoroughly enjoying Metallica Monday on WMMR, it occurs to me to mention something else about my thought process. (See, I told you it was all about me ) In the past, it was common to see "If you favorite me without messaging me first, I will block you" on profiles.  Unfortunately, I'm not particularly quick off the cuff. I turn things over in my mind and rewrite several times before my fingers ever touch a keyboard. One of my solutions to that is to favorite a profile, then let my introduction simmer for a few days so that I can stand out from the inevitable avalanche. At least, standing out as more than another "On Ur KnEeS, bIcH" type is the idea. So that's that. By the way, wasn't The Inevitable Avalanche an obscure X-Men character from the 90's?

Here is the more detailed version of my "about me": It took me a while to settle in on using the name “breastfeedingboy”.  I went through several other possibilities first.  But I’ll explain that a bit. First ... you could say I’m very “mouthy”.  Because that’s what I do.  I use my mouth.  But more in that in a bit.  LOL I am in my 40s, live in the southeastern part of Pennsylvania.  I’m not married and I have no kids.  I am a straight guy with a steady job, a love for soup and steak and football. Now ... I have a strong jaw and am “mouthy” because I enjoy ... Breastfeeding, whether dry or otherwise.  If breastfeeding is something you crave having done to you, I am your titty boy.  Not just for a few minutes, but however long you desire.  Make me nurse you for hours.  I will keep up. Cunnilingus (eating p***y, to put it vulgarly).  From hood to perineum and every little place in between, I will give my tongue a workout so that you are made to skyrocket to the zenith.  If you are soppy wet, I will lick you dry.  If you are dry, I will lick you wet.  And I don’t stop until you tell me to.  If you wrap your legs around my ears or try to wiggle away, I stay with you and keep lapping until you verbally tell me to stop. Toe sucking with foot massages.  I’m still learning about this one but know that the entire foot needs pleasured while the toes are washed clean.  I will keep researching it and learning more about it.  But you could have the stresses of your day rubbed and sucked right out of your body through your feet and toes, all while you lean back and enjoy a glass of your favorite wine. Kissing (on the mouth), with or without the tongue.  ‘A woman can tell a lot about a guy, just based on the way he kisses.’ This may be a cliché statement, but it still has a great deal of truth to it.  If you can’t convey anything she likes through a kiss, what difference will the rest make? I am very big on hugs and cuddling. Now ... about the profile name. I thought about ‘oralslave’, but I’m not a slave. And using the word oral just sounded ugly. I thought about ‘mouthyboy’ but I felt that made me sound like a bratty smartass.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  I’m an obedient soul. I thought about “licknsuck” but then I immediately stopped considering that one as I wanted my name to show some class and some dignity. ‘breastfeedingboy’ was the goldilocks choice.   It sounded just right.    I’m not a slave and not interested in being one.  I would say I am a pleaser, which is why I selected submissive for my profile. I am most interested in making the female body feel goooood, slowly and in several different places on the body.  I will be looking for a woman who enjoys the company of someone with “mouthy” benefits. Other things I enjoy: Opening the door for a lady Pushing in the chair for a lady Flea Markets State Parks Action/Adventure Movies Suspense/Thriller Movies   I’m not offering a service.  And I’m also not looking to buy a service from anyone.  I am simply a submissive type guy who loves to use his mouth.  And I would love to meet the woman who would love to control my mouth in whatever way she wanted. So if you are interested in anything you just read on this profile, please contact me and let’s chat. ------------------------------   Not to come off as being rude but just so I’m not misleading anyone, I understand that sucking cock is also an oral “mouthy” thing to do.  But I am straight and I have no interest at all in doing that.  So you don’t need to contact me and remind me that sucking cock is oral.  I am aware that it is oral. There is absolutely no chance you will ever get me to do that.

he House Doctrine of Master George Part 2 of 2 ( you should read part 1 first) A Journal Entry for the Instruction of Slaves and the Record of My Household Philosophy House Principles The following principles govern daily life here: Obedience is Immediate – Commands are executed without delay or question. Respect is Constant – Tone, body language, and actions must always reflect the honor of this house. Service is Sacred – From the smallest chore to the most ceremonial duty, every act of service is performed with devotion. Discipline is a Gift – Correction is not punishment for its own sake, but a tool to refine you into what I desire. The Master’s Word is Final – My authority is absolute in all matters. The Nature of This Life Slavery, as I define it, is not a role that can be “turned off.” It does not begin when you kneel and end when you stand. It is constant. It is lived in every breath, every movement, every thought. It is not about chains, though chains may be used; it is about the mental and emotional bond of ownership. The gift you offer me is your complete surrender. In return, I give you stability, belonging, protection, and purpose. I will push you harder than you think you can endure — and in doing so, I will reveal to you a strength you never knew you had. Final Word To be my slave is to step into a life defined by clarity and purpose. It is to give up the burden of aimless decision-making and take on the honor of service. It is not a life for the weak, nor for the half-committed. But for those who are ready, the rewards are beyond measure. When you kneel before me, you do not kneel in defeat. You kneel in acceptance — and in that acceptance, you will rise to become exactly what you were meant to be.   Signed, Master G

I have never worn a chastity belt outside of squeezing into one(painfully) for like 30 minutes at most at a time here and there.And I recently found a site that showed me how to measure, and sadly(sadly?!?) to my non-surprise, i'm much too large and need a custom belt.  One that costs $200-300, not the $30-50 belts that seem to be everywhere.And I think back to a recent conversation I had with a Dominant.  That they don't see the point.  That if they tell their slave not to cum, they want and expect their slave not to.  And they wouldn't want them not to.Besides, they want to make use and enjoy the orgasms, so again the belt is unneeded.And having always had to do just that.  I agree.  And I understand.I don't have no particular joy or desire or need for chastity or denial.   I would be very happy having some form of sex and orgasm daily or more just as I would being denied for days or weeks or more.For me, I don't NEED a belt.   But thinking about it, what I NEED is a lack of control.  And the belt can help with that.I was thinking about that today...  How could I explain that idea to someone, and came up with a story of sorts that I see as being a good way of explaining it.Imagine my orgasm is a pile of cookies in the Kitchen.    My owner can say - "don't eat the cookies unless I tell you".  And I could/would obey.   But then again I also could disobey and eat if I see a chance to.(I wouldn't in reality - i'm not bratty like that)   But even though I was told not to, the ultimate power and control of my actions is held by me.   I CHOOSE not to.   I CHOOSE to obey.    Which in and of itself is a powerful thing for the dynamic.   But my thought here goes beyond that.Now imagine a lock on the kitchen door.  That symbolizes the belt.   With a lock, it doesn't matter my choice or decision or even my desire -  I have no choice.   That was removed from me.   The control I had in any way shape or form to obey or not obey is removed from me.And it's that removal of control that the belt can bring.   I would only have a cookie when my owner allowed.   When it pleases them to do so.   And that brings a different dynamic to the relationship.Even if that is one where I eat cookies daily or more even.   I only do so when my owner unlocks the kitchen and allows me to.   Otherwise, like it or not, I wait.   Helpless and not in control.And it's that, that appeals to me about chastity belts more than anything else.   It's like bondage, but a bondage that can be applied 24/7/365.So it has always intreagued me. That, and the fact I can never really fit in one so it's like a teenager desiring beer, the more you're unable to have it, the more you crave the experience of it, at least once. Anyways, just some random musings from my head.   The end result with everything?   Whatever pleases most.   I don't need it, I don't not need it.    The relationship matters more.    I may always wonder how it may be though.   For better or worse.  But I can be happy never trying it just as I could/would being made to live with it 24/7.So like I said, just some random, maybe meaningless musings... thank you for visiting my mind with me this night...

I'm reading this book on habits. There's a little bit of the science, but mostly it's anecdotal moments of famous and not so famous people and how one small change created an avalanche of positive changes. Sometimes just within themselves, sometimes branching out to entire companies. It's fascinating. As I'm expected to, I'm mining the nuggets and looking at how they fit into my life. A lot of times an easy answer to why you do or don't do something is I don't know. Maybe you don't know, even when consciously thinking about it. And then you're listening to someone else's story and it comes to you, THAT'S why you do the thing! Or you already knew the thing but hadn't figured out the alternative better habit, like replacing junk food with a bowl of apples so when you need something quick and lazy it's the better option. I know I'm going to forget more than I remember, but right now its helping me to piece together the reasons why I fall back into certain habits and how to move beyond the comfortable to solidify the new, better ones. Not today, of course. Today was a shit show. But it's a plan for tomorrow. Progress. 

New Kink Unlocked! She told me on the phone... You invite me in and walk me back to your bedroom. You order me to strip and to get on the bed in a doggy position. You are still clothed and slide a blindfold over my eyes. I can hear the shuffle of clothes as you disrobe and feel your weight shift on the bed behind me. Your fingers slide between my legs and can feel how wet the anticipation has made me. And then I gasp as you slide the length of your cock into my pussy, feeling your size for the first time. It has been quite a while since I was last with anyone and you are surprised by how tight I am. You grab my hips and begin fucking me from behind. You tell me that I am just a dirty cum dump and that my only job to take the fucking you feel like giving me. Your rhythm quickens and I can feel you filling me with your cum. But you don't pull out, and I feel your hands spreading my ass cheeks apart. You feel my pussy twitch as you rub my asshole with your thumb. You tell me another part of being your dirty cum dump is to take your cock in every hole. You tell me that you are going to fuck me in the ass and that I'm going to take your load there as well. You squeeze some lube on me and begin working in your finger to prep the hole. You ask me where your cock is going and I tell you "my ass sir." You "And why is it going into your ass?" Me "Because I'm your cum dump and my job is to take you cock in any hole you choose." Your cock has gotten hard again inside me and your fingers have lubed up my hole. You pull your cock out and I then feel your head pressing against my asshole. You lean your weight forward and over me, whispering in my ear to relax and take it as you slowly slide your full length into me. I feel so full and the size of you initially feels impossibly large. You give me a couple second to adjust to your size before you start a slow, gentle rhythm. You feel feel my body accept your and tell me "I'm going to fuck you faster now," and I feel a spike of nervousness as I already feel pushed to my limit of intensity. You are fucking me a bit harder and tell me that I'm doing a good job taking your cock so you are going to give me an orgasm. One hand reaches below me and starts playing with my clit... palm pressing perfecrly. The other hand reaches around and finds a nipple to pinch and squeeze. Your touch sends me over the edge, forcing me to cum hard on your cock. You cum as well, my orgasm essentially milking your load from your cock. You tell me I was a good cum dump and did my job well. I love it when you praise me for being a good toy. You roll me to my side and your mouth finds my tit as you finger me again with your fingers. You have me keep the blindfold on as we cuddle for a bit. Then I clean you and get ready for bed... wanting to sleep in your arms... but also thinking, worrying? wishing? you will take me in the middle of the night.

Ok, I have an idea. There is still many kinks in it but here is the basic idea. I think that minimum wage should be 15.00 an hour, at 40 hours per week that is 600 per week, at 52 weeks in a year that is 31,200 a year. Ok so now lets say that every person who is retired and not making that amount, well they should have their retirement increased to that. After all that is the cost to live according to the left. Same for any ADULT on disability. I will explain later why I said ADULT. Now for those who are working but not getting 40 hours a week or 15.00 an hour..ok we will subsidize their income with cash or food stamps or any combination of the two. HOWEVER, they must work some how for the government to get it. They can pick up trash, help paint lines on the side walks, work in places that are short handed because well the government really cannot afford to hire more people.. but if people that were already getting money from the government for doing nothing could fill in that would be awesome right??? We all get health care, not driven by insurance companies or by drug companies or by medical supply companies but by Drs alone. There is a set amount the goverment will pay for each drug, or test and no more. That stops what is going on now where drug companies can hike the price for no reason. Oh, in the health care, that needs to include dental, vision, mental health outside of the hospital, physical therapy, any thing else like chiropractor as well, all of that should be included. Want to have 4 kids, sure, but you do not get any more money for having them. Just your 600 per week that is it. You still have to work, do not worry about day care, that will be covered by the government. How you say, easy, that is one of the jobs those who do not have jobs can do. 24 hour day care so people can work jobs any time day or night and have child care. Now you are wondering why I did not include children on the disability, well personally the parents should not get a pay check just because their child was born with a disability. HOWEVER before you all go off pissed off, the child should get all medical care needed, things like wheel chairs, teachers and all of that, but more money for food or clothes and the likes, nope that is no different then any other kid. Ohh and just to let you know.. I have a sister who was born with Downs, my parents never got money for her. Now she is an adult, so now she should get the same standard of living that the rest of us should have. Ohhh I forgot the most important thing. Since this 600 per week is what I think is needed to live off of, then anyone making under 600 a week should have to pay any form of income tax, no federal, no state and no local.

i really cooked with this one. kitty gang kitty gang kitty gang ah.     being a mystic of the scriber variety i have learned when i am going through something of a personal nature that is just for me to figure out on my own and hold deep in my heart. but there are often things that i'm going through that the collective is going through. either as fellow femmes be it afab woman gay men with a feminine essence non gendered third gendered with a feminine vibe..all in between...or even a human experience...there are times where i'm going through something.i was going through something..something is coming for me to come through that is a MESSAGE. this is one i know that i'm not alone in..i see it on social media all the time. this is a collective thing for femmes. i hear it when i do leave the house....but this one is more raw for me because i haven't mastered it yet. and it's something i actively work on, prayer, meditation magic to the self, therapy, inner work, inner dialogue, dialoguing with coaches, working with my sisters..practicing carrying wood, chopping water..under the cold as ice water meditating.....running up the stairs rocky style trying to master.....i am better at this now..but the deep raw wound..the deep raw wild unbridled intense all consuming pull..it's still very real for me...and whenever i've been in a romantic relationship or trying to get one that never launches because dating a dark goddess with intuition and a deep psychic awareness of others emotions is a heavy task to sign up for...haha there is no hiding with someone like me and most men can't hang. and even those that want the challenge will often be met past their personal limits and ragequit out quietly or loudly.  this one is harder for me to share because i'm still in the belly of the beast with this. i haven't mastered this yet. i'm much better than i was in my 20s...and each time before i ejected myself from the sauce i got better and better..but there's still so much for me to master..and these feelings..they are so primal it's hard to wrangle or even admit is a thing. but this is definately a collective message i am individually still working on figuring out the solution too that i'm being called to be bold, brave, and as a mystic scriber connect myself to.   the vulnerability has to this point earned me zero dollars, so no bacon yet....but the bacon is in the spiritual emotional mental decorations i have as a solider of love. ai no message with a puffed chest not fake but due to everything i have and will go through that many will never recover from or begin to touch. a puff my chest for knowing the depths of what i have and will face. an earned prowess.   being vulnerable about what’s hard for you and acknowledging the discomfort as part of the mystic path. It’s that raw honesty, mixed with the courage to embrace being “a lot,” that resonates deeply. Mystics often have to sit with their shadows and discomfort, and turning that into glory is part of what makes the journey so transformative. Writing about this, even when it’s difficult, is where the real magic happens. You’re not just owning your strength but also showing others the deep, spiritual work behind it. It’s a brave, warrior-like approach to the mystic path, facing the discomfort head-on to find glory on the other side.   let me call in my sophia encoded soul sister doja cat here. when you play at this level people confuse the outward expression with being troubled and alone...we usually only get this way becauseeeeeeeee we have the outside support including therapy..we only GET to unearth this rawness because we AREN'T alone..don't confuse the heavy topics and unraveling with aimless direction.   "I read it, all the comments sayin', "D, I'm really shooketh" "D, you need to see a therapist, is you lookin'?" Yes, the one I got, they really are the best Now I feel like I can see you bitches is depressed I am not afraid to finally say shit with my chest   Look at me, look at me, I'm naked Vulnerability earned me a lot of bacon I put a thong all in my ass and taught you how to shake it I paid all my respect to those who taught me how to make it And now I reap the benefits with no confrontation Y'all fall into beef but that's another conversation I'm sorry, but we all find it really entertaining 'Cause we all wanna see them slip and fall right on their faces And we all wanna be the one to see the devastation Not be in it, but ain't the bad press good? The disrespect's real, how this Patek look? Pull out the checkbook, now why your neck crooked? I never learn to superstar from a textbook Talkin' 'bout, "She fallin' off, why she get booked?" Man, I been humble, I'm tired of all the deprecation Just let me flex, bruh, just let me pop shit "Why she think she Nicki M? She think she hot shit," hmm I never gave a F, go stir the pot, bitch I got y'all head all in the dirt just like a ostrich Of course, you bitches comparin' Doja to who the hottest" a love and light bitch would do naked to appeal to the male sexuality or the light sexuality. she would be posing provocatively to entice someone to want to fulfill their urges to touch themselves to engage and interact with the sexual energy. they would've touted a good girl sweet aesthetic, a girl next door or a playboy bunny vibe. we're old enough and human enough to know what sex is for a man of any gender that is attracted to a woman be it straight pansexual bisexual whatever. we know what the vibe is....when a man and woman think sex and naked we know.   doja is my tribe she is a wolf she is a devil as she said a demon a yokai like me.   we're bloody when we're naked. we stare at you deep in your soul. if you tussle with us we look you in your eye that's why so many black rapper lilith girls rap that we stare you in the eye when we're fucking because we ain't scared. those eyes maybe white in the back of our sockets but we're doing it because we face the uncomfortableness head on. her body stance isn't leaning to a side or trying to make curves...it isn't trying to be soft or feminine or wild or water....it's at attention it's direct it's commanding it's powerful. her chest isn't hiding her breads it is straight puffing it.   she's bloody because like me we face our uncomfortableness over and over and over again. this is a different type of naked..and if you tussle with a dark goddess of any variety and are blessed to either emotionally mentally spiritually or even hitting the jackpot of love and sexually be naked with her..this is what you get. kudos for the sacred sigil symbology here too sis. love her for that. we're magical girls with foresight.   and yet with all this power.....there's a deep struggle....in this level of nakedness...in how we engage with the complimentary but opposite energetics of men and how they operate and their worlds and how they are made....ad doja is helping me dive into that; if you listen to the song..how does she say look at me? it's not nice, it's not sweet....IT'S DESPERATE IT'S LIKE SOMEONE YELLING CLAWING BEGGING MAD AGGRESSIVE WAILING OVERWHELMING IT'S DIFFERENT LAYERS OF FEELING ALL IN ONE WILD CHAOTIC SECOND. LOOK. AT. M.E LEWKATME LEWK-AT-ME.....   LOOK AT ME   and for the men who aren't sacred away by that passion and want to try and will reach back and will touch and won't ghost, won't dip, won't demonize, won't therapize, won't logic but meet this wild nature creature..how does she respond?   qui

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            

Okay, this needs to be said, so please read.I don't care if you are male, female, trans or how you identify.  That is your choice and i will respect it.  I don't care if you are Hetero, Pan, Gay or Lesbian. It is ALL good!  I don't care what your age is, please be legal! Or how fat or thin you are. Whether you are ripped and shapely or fat, flabby or chubby.  You can be hairy, hairless, bald, gray, wrinkled or smooth. I don't care what color you are or your national or ethnic origin. I don't care whether you are cut or uncut. I don't care how long or thick your cock is! I don't care if you are a heavy cummer or if you cum at all! Hell, I don't even care if you can get it up with or without meds, or at all! I don't care how big your boobs or how phat your ass is.... WHAT I DO CARE ABOUT... is YOUR attitude! You must be Dominant! You must take charge. Be demanding. Be sadistic (but sane!) Be kinky. Be perverted. Be creative.Don't ask me what i want to do. Tell me what i am going to have to do!Don't make me wheedle out your desires and interests. TELL ME what they are!  And as a side note; the Loves, Likes etc lists on here don't really tell much of a story, so be prepared to explain.You are not going to shock me or scare me off with your dark and kinky desires. In fact, if you won't, or can't, tell me; then i am not likely to meet you under any circumstances!I won't go into a session without some idea as to what to expect!I am happy to chat or exchange emails. Discuss your desires. Explain, if i can, the options. If all you want is hot and nasty chat, i am good for that as well.

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

I want a truly submissive, Female Supremacist who is acquiescent to their core and craves pampering a Beautiful and Dominant Goddess. I am bored of being approached by porn sick sex focused faux-subs who want to use Women to fulfill their kinks and "domestic shlubs". Cleaning My toilet is not an act of submission. Worshipping any sexual parts of my body is not an act of submission. Understanding your role as a male and sub in the order of My World is an act of submission. Begging to know how you can be of use, cater to Me and relieve Me of stress or woes is an act of submisoon. I am a dream Woman by all standards. I expect any sub who even attempts to approach Me to have a "how can i tangibly make Your day better, Goddess" attitude. Enough with the sex and domestic crazed bs. It's lazy, patronizing and patriarchal. The only sub I'll accept is one who hired a cleaning service to work while I'm enjoying a spa day that they arranged for Me. Afterward, they will prepare a delicious meal for Me, then I let out My pent up stress on them in a corporal manner, or have My feet massaged and kisssed...whatever mood stirs Me.

Things I require - because I'm human 1. Be dependable- this means to come if you say you are coming... this means to contact me if you are late... this means to let me know if you can’t come. This is important whether dominant or submissive. It is common courtesy. 2. Be honest. If you can’t make it, tell me. If you don’t want to, say you don’t. If you aren't honest in everyday things, how can I trust you enough to be with you in a relationship dynamic? 3. Communicate - I’m not needy or clingy. But a little “hey how’s your day” every now and then, or just some time to talk when you aren't red hot horny, will go a long way. How else do you get to know each other well enough to do the things we do? 4. Be public. I don’t care if you are shy. I don’t care if you are private. (in regards to going to a public event) Refusing to be seen SOMEwhere with me is a red flag.  5. Be willing to do some vanilla things. Get together for dinner. Go to a movie. Stay in for a movie. Take a walk in the park, with no promise of anything kink related or sexual. It doesn't have to cost you anything but time. There has to be a connection other than lifestyle. 6. Have SOMETHING in common with me outside of fetishes. Like the same documentaries. Enjoy the same music. Have something to talk about in our down time, because we can’t always be up. 7. Listen to me. Hear what I say. If I say it, believe it. 8. Stay in contact, and reply in a timely manner. It is a waste of time and effort if you are only going to reply once ever other week or three. Life is too short to leaving people hanging.9. Don't just ghost people. If you lose interest, or are are not interested in a first message, just say so. I will not be angry, and I will trouble you no more.   10. Expect all these things from me. Because these things are not Dominant things... nor submissive things... These are HUMAN BEING things.

And just like that, the talks have ended and I've sent that prospective slave on her way. There were two very big (imo) factors as to why she would not have worked out. The first being a big communication problem. When I speak, I speak directly and clearly as to what I want, think, feel or am asking. If I'm asking a question, I expect an answer to the question asked. Not what you think you feel the question is or pretains to. That tells me you aren't listening to my words, just your feelings. And that will lead a slave to failure every time. The next problem is ideals vs reality. I see this as rampant throughout these bdsm sites. A slave will search for their ideals and not except that the reality is rarely, if ever, matches what their idea of being a slave is. The fact is, thought the slave wants to be kept in a cage and only brought out to be played with, bills need to be paid, the house needs to be cleaned, meals need to be cooked. These are, to me and other Masters, part and parcel to being a slave. The fantasy slavery is good for maybe a weekend or so. But not something feasible for the long run. So for now, it seems I am still looking for a slave. As I continue on this journey, I think I'll continue to use this form of media as a sounding board. 

Fair WARNING    I WILL NOT deal with FAKES/or time wasters at all. The first time anything isn’t done the correct way I will block you immediately.   Everyone’s time is precious DONT WASTE MINE. As my time is EXTREMELY VALUABLE! I want what I want and WILL NOT SETTLE FOR A IDIOT THAT CANT COMPLETE A SIMPLE TASK.   #FrustratedGoddess 

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.

"50 Shades Of Wanabees" **Will finish writing this and add the conclusion sometime in the near future. Unfortunately, work and life get in the way of passion at times not affording us the opportunity to delve into it full time. That and writing this on a cell phone is a daunting task. Read enjoy, educate, comment. It's all good. I've been involved in this lifestyle for going on 40yrs. It is a very special kind of relationship and bond that takes lots of commitment, EFFECTIVE communication, understanding and most of all....TRUST. This type of life is not for everyone especially those "vanilla relationshippers" who don't understand it or know anything about it other than the stereotype information they heard or read. It is a multi-layer, multi-dimensional universe of its own that is compromised of many of its own ecosystems. It's as vast as the many kinks and fetishes that people can imagine and transform into being on the physical plane. Although we try to categorize the many desires so we can label them and sort them in order to find fellow kinksters. It is a task less job of who done it. No different than labeling colors. To the right we have orange. To the left we have red. But what happens when we have a color that falls in between? It doesn't necessarily look orange or red on of its own. Do we call "rednge" and make it its own category so it sits their all alone? Obviously not! But yet another hybrid is born expanding our array of colors once again. Adding to the illustrious rainbow of a way of life for many. It is no different than Mother nature's evolution of our planet and its inhabitants. Constantly in motion. Growing, changing, EVOLVING. How wonderful. HOWEVER, something almost always comes along to try and hamper the growth. It resonates through the community touching and infecting all that live in it. It betrays us all and infaspects the very things that make it so unique. Trust quickly dissipates as the intrusion spreads like wildfire burning all that fall within its path. Leaving behind scorched emotions, lack of trust or belief. Like that fiery fire is what I call, "50 Shades Of Wannabees". It's compromised of those who watched or read this crossover book or movie of a kinkier version of "Pretty Woman". A rich man who takes over a lower class woman's mind and bends her into his submissive. Suddenly like the herd of Buffalo, that once roamed this nation, a stampede of kinksters charge into our community. There is no understanding that there is SO much more than physical ownership of a sub or slave. It is a psychological game of Stratego that has been played by the partners gaining command of the others headspace. That headspace contains all the emotions, physical desires, dreams, fantasies, psychological manifestations of childhood yearnings, etc. All rolled up into one area waiting to be examined and absorbed by someone who can understand them and nurture them to fruition. A Bach of the composer world who takes them and turns them into beautiful music that all can hear. The manifestation of the hidden minds collective emotional desires and needs now controlling the physical form like the captive they once were. With this weapon in hand the dominant hunter has captured his prey. He cages and controls it by holding its heart tightly against his chest in his protective arms so no harm will come to it. The chase was long. The chase took many paths that one had to avoid straying from and getting lost. So when finally navigating it and finding that pot of gold at the end it is treasured as the greatest possession owned. It's capture was earned and not stolen. I can't help but look at these wannabees as nothing more than and invasive army made up of decisions or narcissistic grandure. Their need to feel powerful and fulfill their cardinal desires of physical pleasure and loneliness taken by force. No understanding of how the lifestyle works because they have no desire to learn it. Whips spinning in the air, shouts of demands and orders barking, physically overpowering of their prey is all they understand. I am a MASTER they proclaim to all as they dangle bait in hopes of luring a potential pacifistic creature. No you are NOT A MASTER, the knowledgeable citizens say. YOU ARE JUST A BULLY! A bully fueled by your narcissistic desires of ownership over another that you expect to force to serve you for your pleasure and your pleasure alone. You and your wants are all that matters and the emotions of the server are forced into exile.

I regularly get messages asking me what I consider edge play or what is an "extreme" scene that I have done. A few thoughts on this. First, and most importantly, my adventures are no one else's fapping material. I have met people off this site before, but that is more of an exception than a regularity. Sharing something like a story, which is very intimate, or a scene, is asking a lot right off the bat and is something that no one is entitled to. What is considered edge is going to be different for each of us? I am not here to one-up on someone or compare sausages. What is taboo to me? Having someone viewing another person on camera might not seem hardcore, but having cameras set up 24/7 to view on-demand is.  Going out to dinner may not seem hardcore, but my footing the bill can be edgy. Humiliating play may not be edgy, but when you consider mental health, it can be as sharp as a physical knife edge. If you are not on the same wavelength as I am, you will miss the subtleties of how sharp my edge is. 

Thoughs over the years upon reading Journals and Priofile comments: On the one hand, yes, there absolutely are people here who are outright scammers as well cases of people flat out being dishonest about what they want and what they're ready to do. No question. At the same time, words and phrases like "fakes" and "not serious" get so vague sometimes (exception: when sufficient context is provided by the person venting) that it can mean almost anything. Fortunately not in conservations with me, but just watching others, this is clear. So broad is the term, that 2 people can say it about each other and they can BOTH be correct...for one person not being serious oe nor being reality based means one thing, for the other, it means something else..Both can be correct accusing the other of it..while both might be honest. And of course easy to overapply to others, less than fairly.. It would serve all best if Profiles and Journals didn't just vent about fakes-and-flakes and "people who are not serious" but were a lot more, or at least a little more, specific. Not only because then we'd see that the journal or profile comment is not itself fakey-or-flaky or misrepresenting what was just a poor match...but simply because by stating parameters that were violated, clears up what you're looking for and what you're not looking for. What you think is reasonable and what you think is not. Then matches, for those of you looking for them, can have a better shot at success. Happy New Year and wishing people a safe, prosperous, and fulfilling year ahead :-)

It is only by enlarging the scope of one’s tastes and one’s fantasies, by sacrificing everything to pleasure, that the unfortunate individual called Man, thrown despite himself into this sad world, can succeed in gathering a few roses among life’s thorns” D.A.F. Marquis de Sade

What are the origins of My interest in the Master/slave dynamic? That's a question I have asked Myself many times and still find the answer elusive. Was it all those sword and sandal films I watched with the muscle bound men in chains? Or is it something deeper that drew me to those films and all the other images of lesser men serving a Superior? As humans, I believe we are drawn to others that confirm what we know is true about ourselves,  My involvement in training and developing slave minds and bodies dates back to the mid 1990's. I was newly out in My mid 30's and drawn to the darker edges of the gay community I was exploring. I began to notice a man watching me in the leater/levi bar I had started frequenting. The man was not physically attractive but his intensity interested Me. I was curious. Asking others brought a common warning, "he's a werido stay away". I continued to ignore and then finally one day he spoke to me. his first word to Me was "Sir".  More later...... 

8/22/23   Didn't know could post again...my my....my writing is elsewhere all of it but feeling shy here....i will have to pick a poem.   The choice was random.   It is heavy,  this life: A mountain  Won't move. The sun burns. Carrion feeds Vulture needs. Somehow we go: Wings grow, Living show Of how we know What we sow.  Waves come crashing: Moon shadow Pulls and pushes, Half or full, The tide hits Ebb or flow, Force let's go... We stand  Together And alone, We stand  As One And two, We stand Because  We can... We stand On land Even though Life hits hard, We stand...we stand... We stand, A Muse, And a Bard, We stand, Unable To sink In this crisis  Of quicksand.    August 2023 zamarra

Accuse me of having no manners. If you do, OI laugh at you. I have responded to many profiles out here over the many years and 9 out of 10 don't get a reply.  I basically say hi, mention a little about me, sometimes I mention they should read my profile, I ask questions. The other 1 out of 10 that do repley, usually seem to continue a back and forth in exchanging messages but whemn I bring up maybe meeting sometime or doing a chat online or something more interactive than sending the equivalent of email messages, people go silent. FRAUDS! That what this place chuck full of. I doubt anybody meets anyone anymore from this site in person. It is all fun and games and killing time and not being serious about meeting anyone. .

 He whispers in your ear, DON’T MOVE! and walks away,  now what runs through your mind. He returns and gives you another little kiss on the lips. As you’re standing there you feel a feather touching your right ear, it goes under your chin and back up to your left ear. It moves to your nose the down to your chest. The feather gently caresses around your left breast then over to your right breast.  The feather ventures to each nipple circling them several times.  Down towards the belly button it travels circling it several times.  The feather heads to your hip and then down the outside of your leg around your ankle and back up the inside of your leg cross up above your pubic hair carefully making sure not to get it wet.  He takes your hand in his and reminds you to keep your eyes closed. You recognize the way to your bedroom and he places you next to your bed. 

I am not looking for casual, short term or long distance anything.  If that's you move along With you an an experienced Slave or Submissive on a daily basis ( not solely a play bottom for the bedroom = no thanks) who lives in London/Essex/Kent. Don't bother if you are more than 2 hours from those locations. 

I said it and say it again, one must love these str8 males. I say that because there's one moment when finally a str8 male surrenders to a better male and offers his most intimate possession, his hole. It takes considerable time to enter such a space (you want him to come for more) but there is magic in that first entry. The man is nervous for several reasons: first time being entered, societal prohinotions, the realization that even if he doesn't do it again he allowed another male to deflowering him. Most times they reach for their penis as if to make sure it is still there. He is bewildered and with good reason, a new reality is dawning and there is no turning back. the most important moment is not the deflowering that is for me to enjoy and savor; tight, warm, and spasming. Pain, and pleasure begin a dance that takes over the whole body. I you know how to use your rod you will be assaulting the prostate and a new level is reached. All this is your reward as a bull, you worked for that but the str8 male is still hanging to whatever small idea of being str8 he possess. The reckoning comes when you let him turn, place on all four and you enter. He cannot see you, hewants to be a witness to his new reality but the only thing he can do is to grab his dick again. However, once you break in he will stret his arms and back, he has being invaded. That is still the str8 male attempting to show power and control. He wants to communicate the fact that he is still the stallion he thought he was. Yet if you know what you are doing and the assault continues on once he realizes his new role he collapses his body and embraces the bed in which his Top masculinity is destroyed. That collapse is key, his upper body flat on the bed, arms stretched, head on the side and yes closed with an open mouth uttering a silent moan. That is the moment you have conquered him, he is yours and you are his man. 

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

Even at my age, I seem to be surrounded by players. One would think maturity might thin the herd, but no—apparently nonsense has no age limit. Be it any website, platform, or so-called “community,” they’re all there, lined up confidently with impressive titles and very little substance. Everyone is a “Master” now. Capital M, of course. Profiles full of rules, expectations, and declarations of authority, yet curiously light on patience, consistency, or basic courtesy. It’s rather like browsing for a decent cup of tea and being offered only energy drinks. Loud, stimulating, and ultimately unsatisfying. What I notice most is the hurry. The rush to claim ownership, demand obedience, or shortcut trust. It’s all very enthusiastic, but enthusiasm without discipline is just noise. A proper Master, I’ve learned, doesn’t need to announce himself repeatedly. He shows up, stays present, and understands that submission isn’t collected like badges. There’s also a particular type who mistakes control for confidence and silence for depth. They talk endlessly about what they want, rarely about what they can hold. When questions arise—real ones about boundaries, stability, or responsibility—they tend to vanish faster than manners at a buffet. Still, I find myself more amused than discouraged. Experience has sharpened my eye. I know the difference between someone performing a role and someone capable of carrying one. If that means more waiting and fewer conversations worth having, so be it. I’d rather be selective than entertained. So I continue looking, calmly, with standards intact and expectations realistic. The players can keep playing. I’m not here for a game—I’m here for something that lasts, and I’m quite content to wait for it, tea in hand

                           LET ME MAKE SOME THINGS CLEAR  DON'T WASTE YOUR TIME MESSAGING ME IF YOU DON'T HAVE A PIC OR PROFILE.  IF YOU DO MESSAGE ME YOU MUST SEND AN ACTUAL MESSAGE. NO ONE LINERS OR ONE ONE WORD MESSAGES DON'T START YOUR MESSAGE OFF WITH Mistress or Goddess. YOU HAVEN'T BEEN GIVEN PERMISSION TO ADDRESS ME AS SUCH.    I'M NOT HERE TO FINANCIALLY SUPPORT YOU!!!!!! Lady Raven   

  Obedience Rituals for a kajira.   A kajira must be obedient and pleasing. She has many ways to assure her master. The obedience rituals provide a striking set of actions that every kajira must master. First Obedience The girl presents herself before her master who has commanded first obedience. She kneels before her master with her hands on the floor. Next the kajira rubs her cheeks and hair on her master’s feet. While attending to her master, the girl must tell her master how much she loves being his slave and how much she loves him. She continues pleasuring her master while pleading that she only wants to be his kajira, his pleasure slave. When the master signals that she has met his needs she must remain in position for other commands such as Second Obedience. Second Obedience The kajira remains kneeling with her hair on her master’s feet. She begins kissing his feet and telling him what sexual favors she will provide. How long and how many desires she uncovers is up to her. She may also plead for sex acts that she needs and wants. The more detailed and complete the better. The master will let her know when she has fulfilled her duties, usually by being ordered to Nadu position.  

Bondage Bondage is a common practice within BDSM (Bondage, Discipline, Dominance, Submission, Sadism, Masochism), which is a set of consensual activities involving power dynamics, role-playing, and various forms of erotic play. Bondage refers to the act of restraining or tying up a person for the purposes of sensory stimulation, power exchange, or simply as a form of erotic or aesthetic pleasure. In BDSM, bondage can take many forms and can involve a range of materials such as ropes, chains, handcuffs, leather straps, or bondage tape. The specific techniques and tools used in bondage can vary widely depending on personal preferences and the level of experience of the individuals involved. Bondage can be used in combination with other BDSM activities or as a standalone practice. It often forms part of a larger scene or session where participants negotiate and establish boundaries, consent, and safe words to ensure the activities remain consensual and safe for everyone involved.  It's important to note that in BDSM, consent and communication are paramount. All activities should be consensual, and participants should establish clear boundaries and safe words to ensure that the experience is enjoyable and safe for everyone involved. It's always recommended to educate oneself about BDSM practices, communicate openly with partners, and prioritize safety and consent at all times.

Hello.  If you are a truly dominant woman or couple possessing high intelligence and integrity, I have a situation that may interest you. This isn't just about play or BDSM, I am offering a very well compensated job, as well as a life and a jump in lifestyle. Please read it all before you decide.  I know telling you I am real and this is legit is a waste of time because all the scammers say that.  Notice that my spelling and grammar are correct, and it's not a ridiculous offer, but very reasonable to the right dominant woman willing and able to accept it. You can Google VA caregiver and VA caregiver stipend.  When you do, ONLY go to websites ending in dot gov.  Anything else is NOT a real government website, though they try to fool you into believing that they are. I'm going to keep this to facts, because you will either be interested and want more details, or you won't be and there is no need for more info.  Please read about me in my profile and journal. I just learned, that because of my cancer and my recent disability rating increase, I will almost certainly be eligible to have a live in caregiver.  The VA compensates caregivers really well.  I can't mention numbers but you can find them in those URLs.  You would basically be helping me around the house with things which are difficult because of my disabilities.  By September I should be past all the side effects of the radiation so I won't need all that much help.  Which means you could go to school or work another job.  I will not give you a free ride.  I will expect you to pay something toward the upkeep of the house.  I will loan you the money for a car if you don't have one.What I am seeking is a 24/7 domme to enslave me in a consensual non consent relationship.  Yes, that means you will need to relocate to Phoenix, AZ USA, because I can't relocate. I own a large, very nice home in a quiet, upscale middle class neighborhood.  But I'm only about 12 miles from downtown Phoenix. I don't want a soft domme.  At least not all the time.  I need a domme with very dark desires and cruelty.  If you are new to BDSM or your own dominance, I can teach you to explore your darkness, dominance and cruelty, which the politically correct BDSM community could not and would not.  So inexperience is not an issue for me.  Nor do I seek monogamy or constant attention.  I would serve only you and anyone you told me to, while you could live your life any way you want to.  You can have other slaves, bulls, whatever you want.  And you get me for a slave.  I'm not weak and useless or a total asshole like most other male subs.  I will actually prioritize your happiness because that will make me happy.That's it.  This is a description, not an offer.  We would not be able to start this until August at the earliest, so that would give us plenty of time to talk, work out details, etc.If you are interested, and by that I mean that if you like the circumstances, you will follow through and actually do this if we connect on that level, then write me.  If you know you are not going to do it, then please feel free to ignore this, and I hope you find what you seek.

The Particular Ache of an Empty House I have been thinking about doors lately. The specific quality of a door that opens onto something waiting for you, the difference between entering a space that is simply empty and entering one that has been prepared, held in a certain state of readiness by someone whose entire orientation for the hours you were gone has been toward your return. I know that difference in my body. I have lived on both sides of it, and I will not pretend they feel anything alike.   Right now I come home to silence. It is my silence, my space, maintained to my standards because I maintain it myself, and there is nothing wrong with it except that it is inert. A room that has not been thinking about me. A kitchen that holds no evidence of anticipation. A threshold that does not know the difference between my arrival and any other event in the day. I cross it and the space simply continues being what it was, indifferent, unchanged, requiring nothing of either of us.   I miss the other kind of threshold with a specificity that surprises me sometimes.   I miss the quality of a home that has been tended. Not cleaned in the transactional sense, though that too, but tended in the way that a person tends something they care about, with attention to what it is for and who it belongs to. The particular arrangement of a room that tells you someone has been thinking about your comfort in your absence. The light already correct. The temperature already what you prefer. The small and specific details of your own preferences reflected back at you by a space that has been held, carefully, in your image while you were elsewhere inhabiting the world.   I miss being known before I speak.   There is a warmth to genuine devotion that I do not think translates to anyone who has not felt it, because it reads from the outside as service and from the inside as something closer to being loved in the most precise and practical language available. Not the warmth of sentiment, though there is that too, but the warmth of competence directed entirely at your ease. Of someone who has studied you carefully enough that your needs arrive met before you have finished forming them into requests. That warmth is not loud. It does not announce itself. It simply exists as the temperature of the space around you, slightly and unmistakably above what the world outside provides.   I think about coming home after a hard day, the specific hard days that my body produces without my permission, the ones where the pain has been a sustained and wearing presence since morning and the outside world has asked more of me than I had available and I have given it anyway because that is what I do. I think about what it would mean to cross a threshold into a space that already knew. Where the bath had been drawn, not because I asked but because someone understood the day I was having and had moved to meet me in it. Where the room was quiet and the lighting considered and the particular tea I need when I am worn down was already steeping to the correct minute.   Where someone was waiting, not with needs of their own to present or words requiring response, but simply with presence. The warm and steady presence of a person whose purpose, in that moment, is entirely my restoration.   I built that once. I know how to build it. I know what it requires, and what it produces. I know the specific quality of peace that settles into a body that has been genuinely, competently received by someone who considers receiving you their greatest privilege.   Kahlil Gibran wrote that work is love made visible. The devotion I am describing is exactly that: love made visible not in declarations but in the ten thousand small and correct things that together produce a life that feels held. The right cup. The considered room. The hands that know where it hurts without being told. The presence that asks nothing and gives everything and finds in the giving its own complete satisfaction.   I am building toward it again. This quiet house is a temporary condition, a chapter rather than a conclusion, and I know this with the certainty of a woman who understands the difference between where she is and where she is going.   But tonight I notice the silence, and I name what it is missing, and I let myself want it fully and without apology.   The warmth of a home that has been thinking about me is always on my mind.

What I want...(I did not write this but it rings true for me).  I want flowers. I want to whip you. I want to stroke your cheek and smile into your eyes. I want respect and awe and understanding and love. I want foot rubs and leg rubs and back rubs and anywhere rubs. I want you to know when to reach out to touch and when to kneel and wait. I want you to want me fiercely, desire me utterly. I want kisses. Little ones, fast ones, fierce ones, thigh-clenching-good kisses. I want you to touch me like you’re trying to memorize the texture and shape of me. I want affection and cuddling. I want you to drop your eyes when I demand and meet my eyes when we talk. I want you to miss me terribly when we’re apart. I want you to know what you mean to me, how I cherish you. I want humor and debate and dialog. I want you to kiss the side of my neck while your hands grip my hips, my back. I want to see you crawl – just for me. I want to look at you in that special way and see you breathe deeply with desire and anticipation of what you know is to come. I want to fuck you, penetrate you, tease you, deny you, please you, torture you. I want.... You.                                                                                              

Warning: This is a long rant...So I got my first really nasty message today regarding my political leanings.  He called me an ugly ignorant cunt among some other choice words that I don't even remember now. Funny thing is I am a cunt but I don't consider myself ugly but, of course, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  To each his own.  I don't expect to b everyone's cup of tea.  To this coward (he blocked me before I could go off on him lol)  I will say that insults like these tell me more about you than about myself.  The fact that you blocked me tells me you're probably a baby incel living in your mother's basement. This is all well and good when you're in your 20's but beyond that makes you pitiful. You were well over 30 ad clearly need to get fucked. To anyone else out in CS land I will say that you don't need to show me your ignorance by attacking my political beliefs or my physical appearance.  It's pretty fucking clear to anyone with at least one brain cell that this orange imbecile and his band of ass lickers are destroying our democracy in the worst dumpster fire this country has ever seen. We;re a laughingstock of the entire world. And just when you think he can't possibly do anything worse than he's already done he goes and does a few more detrimental things to the American people.  That inclues you ignorant repugnicans! You're worshipping a moron and you can't even see he's fucking with you, too!  Now that's what I call IGNORANT!!! In ending I will say that I'm glad this asshole showed his ass to me today because it gives me a chance to rant.  My final words are if you don't like my politics you need to scroll right because I don't want to know you anyway and it saves me the trouble of asking, unless of  course you're dumb enough to wear your ugly red maga hat in your profile pic. 

  hope, still Since nineteen I’ve wandered, with stars in my chest, Through years full of aching, through trials and tests. I’ve searched in the silence, in moments I’d cry, And whispered to shadows my tear-threaded why. I’ve given up hope, then lit it anew, Wrote love in the margins, believed it was true. The road has been winding, the nights have been long, But I’ve kept my soul tethered to one quiet song. Today I still listen, my heart open wide, For the one who will see me and stand by my side. Who’ll meet me with presence, and power, and grace, To hold all my parts in their rightful place.   So come now, Daddy, I’ve waited so long— Collar me gently, where I truly belong.

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

Training, discipline, & punishment. These have become almost interchangable in modern D/s, but as most who've actually practiced what they preach would confirm, they are very, very different things. Let me explain...   Training Training is best described as introducing something new. It can be practically anything, but it is unfamiliar, usually goes against a girls existing ways, and takes time for her to adjust to becoming comfortable with. Perhaps it requires her to learn how to move in a way that pleases his eye, or how to dress or speak in certain situations. It may be a routine he desires her to follow, or an unfamiliar chore that she needs to complete. Perhaps it is a desire of his that she does not share, though it is rarely simply sexual in nature. After all, most women know the basics of pleasing a man sexually, they usually just need to refine their technique. Training is for things that he wishes her to provide that she would not have been exposed to before.   Discipline If training is instilling in the girl the knowledge of how to perform the new and unfamiliar task, then discipline is raising the girls proficiency to the desired standard. Mostly this is repetion and study for the girl, and  patience and clarity of communication for him. Discipline may also encompass things she is familiar with but does not perform to his desired standard, and these are sometimes sexual in nature, though not as much as you might think. With training having provided the basic fundamentals of the new and unfamiliar, discipline teaches the girl to consistently fulfill the task as he expaspects and deserves but, more importantly as she is capable of providing.   Punishment And if she is capable of providing the task as he wishes, then what is the justification for her failing to do so? Well, perhaps she is sick, physically or mentally. Perhaps she has had bad news and is suffering under the weight of it. Perhaps his belief that discipline had given her a strong foundation for completing the task was a mistake, and more work is needed. Whatever it may be, he must not punish in haste. Few girls wilfully fall short, precisely because the consequence is punishment. He should always ensure the girl is free to approach him with concerns, and does not fear doing so, as open and honest communication is everything.But if there is no reason for the girl to have dropped her standards, standards she is very capable of maintaining, then correction is needed, and punishment must be delivered.   And punishment, I assure you, is not to be approached lightly, delivered disproportionately, or allowed to linger before and after.   Shall I go on?

One of my favourite pictures is a before and after of a girl I used to love and who, if not for the universe, would still be my girl now. I'll call her Leigh.I have a huge clothing fetish, and not just for lingerie. A well-dressed, well presented girl, will stiffen my resolve like few other things, and on this day she had spent the time showing me how well she could feed that side of me. Typical porn secretary in a lot of ways; white silk blouse, mid-thigh black skirt, hair back in a ponytail, but the devil was in the details. I could see she wore a cincher underneath and, through the shapes under the tight fabric of the skirt, that suspenders and stockings were in my future. Around her neck was the collar I'd got her, a simple and supple strip of black leather with a single ring in the middle. Her nails and lips were the same seductive, decadent arterial blood red, and her eyes were framed by mascara and eye-liner I knew wouldn't be waterproof. The black-framed, business woman style glasses she wore to work every day were somehow the cherry on top. All of this perched on 3 inch heels that clicked on the hardwood floor, while a nervous, playful and hopeful smile playing on her lips. That was the 'before' image. Much of that day is etched in my memory, but the highlights are those devilish details. She was pristine and smooth to my mouth when I stood her back to wall and knelt to devour her, first through her underwear and then, once they were around her ankles, skin to skin. She was achingly, exquisitely wet for me and I very much drank her in before leading her to the bedroom, sitting her on the edge, wrapping those nylon-clad legs around my head, and just devouring her. The taste of her, the scent, the sounds of her response, the way her thighs gripped and relaxed and gripped and relaxed as I teased her to the edge of release, but never over. Not yet. I laid her back, straddled her and opened her blouse to the bra underneath, pushing that up and over her breasts and turned my attention to those pale, rose-tipped wonders. Shortly after that, we would induce lactation, making her delicious and nutritious. Leigh was so very, wonderfully versatile like that. Once my base appetites were sated, I remember telling her was I would be hurting her that day, that I couldn't promise she would enjoy all of it, but that I would. I told her that, in the end, she would be fed well beyond her appetites and she frowned at that. I remember thinking that was kind of oblique even for my pretentious Domly waffling, but she smiled, licked her lips and said 'I'm yours, daddy, all yours', and she was. The next couple of hours were spent edging her. I don't fuck when I dominate; its always felt like a confusion of purpose, so even as she was divested of her clothing down to cincher, hells and stockings, I remained fully dressed. That, to me, felt like control and control always, but always, begins with the self. The 4-walls theory can sometimes take a backseat, after all. I would use toys, big and thick and heavy or slim and nimble and buzzy. I would make her bury her head in the pillow as I pushed my hand deep into her, something she found a deep, resonant joy in, even as mouth and tongue enjoyed her clit. Clamps on cords, pulled tight as she reached for the summit so she could roll down the other side. Zipper lines, running up her sides or around her breasts. Each time she approached orgasm, I would stop, stand her up, and hurt her. Zipper lines tugged slowly or quickly off, clamps pulled shriekingly taut before giving way, pussy spanked, clit flicked, slapped wherever seemed appropriate, hair pulled vicisouly taut. Whatever came to mind, as I needed to administer it. And often, I would use a cane or stick on her body. Ass, breasts (top and underside), thighs, soles of her feet, palms of her hand... anywhere, really. I knew that certain types of pain were like gasoline on a flame, so I avoided them and gave her what I knew she didn't like. Thuddy canes, for instance, she responded to with deep arousal, but thin and whippy she couldn't abide. Nonetheless, she took them until she was welted to my satisfaction. When I called a halt to this cycle, she had the look of a fish you haven't hit hard enough with the bonker, a kind of stunned, defeated confusion. She was slow to respond, sluggish to move and looked utterly drained. That's when I began giving her release. That went on for quite a while, too. The thing about the female orgasm is, even that can be made into an enemy.  By the time I turned my attention to her pleasure, something that I had deliberately built up and denied throughout the day, it was buried under pain and torment. But not buried deeply. Laying her down, mouth and hands gentle, toys gentle, vibrations insistent but considered, it was there to be rediscovered, brought out and given time in the sun. Her first orgasm elicited something like a sigh of relief, and involved little more than her arching off the bed, shuddering and gasping and then sinking back. But onwards I went anyway, same gentleness, same consideration, same relentless stimulation. She came repeatedly, initially with a kind of rich, savoured appreciation of the ecstacy, but, after a while, with increasingly obvious sensitivity. At that point, I restrained her with the cuffs mounted, in the best vanilla with a twist tradition, to the corners of the bed. Spread-eagled, I put a spreader bar between her ankles, not to keep her legs open but so I could kneel on the bar (under a pillow) and stop her twisting almost entirely. And then I went to work. At some point, I gagged her with a bit gag, so she could clench hard as her pleasure stopped being pleasure and become torment. Once I got her over that sensitivity, forced her beyond the limits of her own tolerance for sensation, she kind of broke, accepted her fate. At some point she began to cry, shaking her head furiously as the stimulation continued and her body ignored completely what her mind was saying, and went where it was led. When I called a halt and took the 'after' picture, she looked ruined, purely and simply. She followed where I led with a kind of plodding acceptance, no comment or hesitation, no thought really. In the shower, she knelt and began to cry again as I urinated over her, shoving my cock into her mouth and putting the last of that into her belly, indifferent to her choking and gagging. She threw up a little, but nothing that seemed untoward, all things considered.  It was in that state, puke on her striped tits, hair sopping and dripping with piss, abused, degraded, stunned and utterly beyond sense, that I stood her up, turned her to the wall, lifted her leg, and claimed her, once again, as mine. She barely responded and certainly didn't orgasm, but she was hot and wet and that was all I needed that day. I don't know how long I indulged my lizard brain, but at the end I told her to kneel, which she did, and I came on her face and then in her mouth. Again, she barely responded, barely reacted and somehow, that was glorious. And after? After, I undressed us both fully, and showered with her. I soaped and rinsed her with a kind of reverence, a deep gratitude at the gift that was Leigh and how she matched, met and fulfilled me in so many ways. I washed her hair, her feet, between her thighs, softly, tenderly and with pure love. Then I dried her with equal devotion and kindness and took her to bed, where we lay naked and spooning until lshe fell asleep in my arms and, shortly after, I joined her. The next day, when we went out for breakfast at a cafe just up the road from her place, she winced when she sat down and, when I smiled she smiled back and blushed, but not too much. I miss her every day, and I miss who I was with her ever

We have selected one male to do the trial period next weekend which is May 13th - 15th we have notified him and he has agreed to to do the trial period. This does not mean we will accept him he must be compatible with us and once he is here we will be able to see if he is all talk or can acutally walk the walk. If we do accdpt him we will put another journal entry so you all know the postion is taken. What does that mean for you now if you have been going through the process?  It means you did not get the first chance at the trial period it does not mean you will not get the chance. He might not even show up. If he does he may not meet our expectations so sound off and let us know you are still hoping for a chance. If you messaged us and we have not began the process with you we will not even begin with you until we go through the many applicants that have began the process.    We are till looking for one female slave so if you are a female slave that is interested let us know if you are one that we are currently considering know that this does not affect your chance.   What was the reason that we chose him over the many other candidates. Frankly for the most part many of you that we did not choose were close in the running but this guy was the only one out of more than twenty guys who does not claim he works from home. We are not against that but we find it hard to belive that 95% of our male applicants work from home. For those of you that was not bullshitting us understand that we do not know who is and who is not. So we chose the one who has a job at a warehouse.    If he does not work out we will have to try one that claims to work from home and see where it goes. My sister in law legitimately works from home and has for many years so we know it it is possible but since so many claim to it just seems like some of you are bullshitters and we cannot figure who.   If you stay interested keep your eye out for the follow up entry to this to see if the position acually closed.   Otherwise good luck in your search. 

MY "ACTIVELY SEEKING" SECTION SHOULD ALSO INCLUDE: SEEKING CROSSDRESSERS

TO ANYONE WHO BLOCKED ME OR GHOSTED ME Thank you. When a person ghosts or blocks me I think it says more about them than it does about me. When someone ghosts or blocks me I say a little prayer. Well, that's not the first thing I do. The first thing I do is to probably to say a few little curse words --- just a few of my favorites --- and then I say a little prayer. I say the prayer because I am thankful that I dodged a bullet. I think that people who ghost or block others are weak and cowardly. They don't have the strength of character, integrity, honesty, or courage that I want, in fact, require in anyone that I am associated with whether it be a friend, a submissive, a colleague, or anyone else. They are doing me a favor by ghosting or blocking me because I am better off without them.  

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

Public Service Announcement: There is no separate Bookmark feature so some of us use Favorites to Bookmark (Can you think of why one might not use the browser bookmart feature? Multiple reasons there too) Having seen the latest of a long string of examples of people expressing frustration about "someone added me to Favorites but never wrote me" and how could they do such a thing to me (in their case, I have not added them, or anyone else, to my Favorites in a while..but obviously someone else did) it's a good time to remember this basic fact: People sometimes use it to essentially bookmark. And there's many reasons one might do so. One might have positive or negative or neutral or mixed feelings about the profile as a whole or parts of it, or wish to look up a book or quote or something else in it and so on.    True, for a subset of cases, such an Add to Favorites might actually represent someone trying to be cute or trying to get your attention and not having the courage to... and so on, etc. But this applies to far, far from all instances.. Ascribing it to all cases would be not merely a case of stereotyping, but here, also, it would be a case of simply being flatly mistaken, in so many cases. It's easier to avoid needless conflict or tentson or worry by realizing such things and then making one's own choices about how or when or whether to respond.

It has been a long day, of chores, serving and some punishments finally I am at my official last task . My last task is to wait on master, kneeling by his bedside until he finally sleeping soundly before I can retreat to the quarter.    A slave can only sleep after the master's sleep and must rise up earlier than the master to wait on him.    Finally, when the master is sound asleep, I did the routine bow (careful with every actions because I am always watched by the CCTV) before retreating to the quarter right beside the master's bedroom.    Master has partitioned a small room barely the size of 3m by 1m right beside his room as a slave quarter. The furnishing only comprise of a bed, few hangers for the uniforms, and a small side table. It does not have any window (afterall slaves don't deserves such), and is ventilated by a 2 small ventilation fans on the wall. The lighting is only a few light bulbs which is create alot of heat when it is switched on.  My bed is actually a thin mattress lining in it, with a hard elevated pillow. Master designed the bed this way as a reminder to of my lowly status. Once in the quarter, though my official duties are finished, I am still required to perform my basic slave admin duties before turning in. I have a strict routine to follow, failure which will add to my huge pool of punishment debt which I have already owed master.    Sidetrack: Soiling of uniform is an extremely grave crime. Despite, slave is not allowed to clean the uniform until the end of the work day, which is after the master sleeps.    Changing uniforms Once in the quarters, I am is allowed to change to the regular uniform.    I swiftly, yet with demurely unbotton and remove the blazer, next the inner vest, and finally the bow tie and the blouse... And most notably, out of the heels.    Finally feel some breathing air the moment I undressed out of the formal uniform- it was so tight and restrictive, and always sweating under the many layers. And finally freed ever painful super high heels.    Image of the undressing process:       voidone