I'm an open book! Ask me anything! It seems on the surface to be a very friendly declaration. Maybe you think "Wow, anything!? How brave!" And perhaps they are being brave and truly would answer any question put to them. But my experience is different. When someone says "ask me anything," their contribution to getting to know each other frequently stops there except for answering direct questions asked of them. There is frequently no sharing of "more" or stories of "Oh, when that happened to me..." Instead the only things I learn are the things I ask directly. Which shifts the emotional burden of getting to know each other from "US" to "ME." And later on, if I didnt know something, the blame shifts to me for not having the forethought to ask, rather than it being on them for not volunteering relevant information, or better yet shared blame for not getting to know each other better before XYZ. My first marriage was to a man that I believe was and still is a compulsive liar. And one thing he did that was excruciating to me was NEVER volunteer information. It was a method of CYA (Cover Your Ass) so that if he had to cover something up, the less that was known the fewer things he had to cover or sweep under the rug. Trying to get information out of him was like pulling teeth. So I admit, when I see "I'm an open book!" I have a knee jerk reaction, but it is not solely based on the experience with my ex-husband. I have dealt with more than a handful of people with that mantra both online and off over the years and for the most part, they have similar traits. No volunteering information, only answer if asked, no sharing about experiences spontaneously, and only share as much information as necessary to cover the question. My advice (unsolicited, worth what you pay for it) if you use one of these phrases and you are sincerely trying to be open and brave, is this: 1.) Find another way to word it. Saying you are an open book triggers a knee jerk reaction in more people than just me. 2.) Take the time to realize what you would like to know about a potential partner in early getting to know each other stages 3.) Be prepared to offer the same information about yourself without waiting to be asked each specific piece of information before you share it. What this may look like: Hi I'm Elorin. "Hi, I'm Jim. Can you tell me a little about yourself?" Well, you found me on FetLife so you know I'm kinky. I've been into kink for over 20 years, I consider myself a Dominant Sadistic leaning switch and I like canes. You don't have to tell everything at one question. But you don't have to make them dig for pieces of information, either. I didn't volunteer information about my relationship status, the number of pets I have, or my sexual orientation. You can give that information as it comes up. But don't be of the mindset that you need to hoard your information anymore than that each question needs a two page info dump. Pace yourself, be open, and share equal and similar information to what someone shares with you. My $0.02 ~Me

This is a short story i wrote a couple of years ago . . Is your life really that empty? Maybe the best words I have ever spoken Is your life really that empty? That may be the best opening line since ‘.......I was born in 1518 in the village of Glenfinnan on the shores of Loch Shiel. And I am immortal'. In truth maybe not, but these words got me here, pressing keys on my pc’s keyboard about to tell my story. A good opening line, true, although not a good place to start my tale, so, where to begin? Who I am, where I was when I first saw her or the reason I spoke those words? Maybe to ground this thing would be best, I am male, a Dom, a sadist, not rich, not powerful, slightly artistic, getting to be older than I want to be living in a small suburb of a small city in the English Midlands. It was a Tuesday, early afternoon and I was on a coach going to Nottingham to check out an art gallery to see if they would exhibit, or sell, some pieces of my work. Don’t get all excited thinking I am a master painter or sculptor selling pieces for hundreds of thousands of pounds (yes pounds and not dollars) I sell my work for between £100 – 200 if I am lucky enough to find a buyer.Anyway, I first saw the girl, woman, standing on the platform along with others, waiting for our coach to arrive and noticed her because she fell into that style of female I like, slim, simple hair style, makeup tending towards the Goth, in jeans, ankle boots and a soft leather jacket and no handbag – simple pleases me. I am a good and sadistic Dom but I am no good at talking to females I do not know in vanilla situations so I took in her images, filed it under, ‘what a shame’ and then as the coach arrived I entered and walked to the back and sat down only to find she followed and sat in the seat in front of me on the other side of the isle. As we pulled out of the station I saw her take out a book, find her place, about a third of the way through, and begin to read. To say my mental image of her was shattered would be far too extreme but I was so disappointed in her. If she was vanilla it was such a pointless thing to read and if into my ‘lifestyle’ a really sad thing to read and I didn’t know which was worse. I tried to ignore her, and the book, as the minutes ticked by.  I watched houses and trees and cars pass by before we reached the dual carriageway, connecting the two cities, and the coach built up speed. I noticed all other passengers were seated nearer the front leaving at least seven rows of empty seats between us and them and I decided this was the universe telling me to do something – the universe seldom tells me to do things in case you were wondering. I moved across the back seat until I was slightly to her left but still behind her and said in a normal speaking voice, not too loud, not too quiet, “Is your life really that empty?"I accept this could be a very insulting thing to say to anyone especially a stranger on a bus but the words formed and so were spoken. She lifted her head from the book but did not turn around, I could see her face from where I sat and her mouth turned down slightly, not in a frown but in a puzzled thoughtful way and lowering the book to her knees she said, “Why do you say that?" "I am a Dom and a sadist”, I said although not sure why I was so truthful, “I don’t usually tell people as most do not understand.” I paused waiting to see what she would do or say. "I see.” Was all she said, which didn’t give me any sort of clue or guide to what I should do or say next.  "The book does not relate to the real world of BDSM, most of us are so normal we are as boring as vanilla folk.” I saw a smile come to her face at this so continued, “It is only when we play that many of us diverge from the norm, but I suppose the same could be said of golfers or those that go tenpin bowling every week.” She laughed at this; thank god.  "How do you dominate people then, do you do it with men or woman or both?” She did not turn around as she spoke.  "Before I answer that, have you tried anything in a fetish way; are you sub or Domme or both?"  "You would certainly call me vanilla I think. Everyone is reading the book so I thought I would too.” She paused for a heartbeat and then said, “I am not sure if I would like to submit to a man, I think I might giggle too much if I had to call someone Sir or Master."  "There is much rubbish talked about BDSM, you do not need to call him Sir if that is not what you want, I have little interest in a female calling me Sir unless it comes naturally to her at a time that seems correct to use it.  "BDSM is like real life, it is not a video game, it merely has a few given rules that vary as much as any vanilla couple’s rules vary, that and blindfolds and restraints obviously"  "Something else I would not like until I trusted him enough.” She said and added “How to you write a contract?"  "I am a sadist, I like a little fear in my play, if you trusted me, or knew me too well, could you really be scared of me? I thought this was a statement too far and wondered if I was trying to sabotage this conversation. “There is even more bullshit talked about contracts.  No contract is needed by 999 out of a 1000 couples. “I say ‘do you want to play’? You answer ‘I am new to this’, I say, ‘understood’. What more needs saying?"  I watched her face, and saw a small frown crease her brow, “Remember, you have the power to stop whatever is happening by simply saying a single word, it is easier to stop what is happening in a BDSM encounter than, say, trying to get rid of some half drunk moron in a nightclub who is likely not to take no for an answer. If I do something you do not like, it ends and the play stops, it is in the skill of the Dominant one to not make you say that word."  "I don’t understand,” she said, ”if you are dominant how could I stop you doing what you want especially if I am blindfolded or tied up?"  "Blindfolded, AND tied up” I said with a smile, “I said before, BDSM is real life, if you say the stop word and the dominant one continues that is assault, or as close to it as make no difference, BDSM does not give anyone the right to, umm, go too far."  The coach stopped and two elderly couples boarded and I watch with not a little ‘fear’ as they decided where to sit, the universe was still on my side and they sat side by side 5 rows in front of the girl.  We were well passed half way to the city and I didn’t know where the girl was going, the University of Nottingham Campus would be reached in 5 minutes or so and she could easily be a student there. So as the coach moved on I said.  "It is much easier to show you, show someone I mean, what happens in BDSM play than to describe it, just like if you were going on a first date in the vanilla world you go on it and see how things progress”.  She sat for a second and then put the book back in her pocket, “Thanks for the chat but I have to get off in a couple minutes."  "Ok, I don’t usually talk like this on buses with cute females I don’t know so thank you for not running away screaming.”  I reached into my pocket and took out my business card, “I am a body piercer so I have a card, if you are bored give me a ring and maybe I can answer some more questions or, if your curiosity gets stronger, I can show you my Domly skills.” I reached forward and placed the card on her left thigh, gently pressing the card down, before taking my hand away.  She looked at it before picking it up and putting it in her pocket, so I said “I have a normal house on a normal street, although I do have a play room of sorts with some interesting things to play on and with, so if you visit you do not have to walk though a dark wood to a haunted castle."  she took this the way I hoped and laughing said, “That’s a relief, but this is my stop so bye"  "Have fun.” I said as she stood and I was very impressed, not sure why though, that as she got up and walked down the coach she didn’t look back to see who I was.  The coach stopped she got off and I thought I would not see her again and wondered if I should get off too but my commonsense won out and I sat still as we moved off. “One day I will remember to ask a females name” I said to the back of the seat in front of me and again thought ‘what a shame.'  "Good morrow.” Yes, I oft times answer the phone this way. It is Thursday at 7pm and I have been relaxing watching a video on tv.  "Hello.” A female voice replies.  A silence follows which I do not interrupt wondering if this is another recorded message asking if I want to make a personal injury claim or some other tedious drivel. “I thought reality might be better than fiction."  "Ah.” I am a sadist of few words but sometimes one has to be a little helpful, “That is easy to do, come to my home, knock on the door and then enter, all other decisions will be made for you from that point. If you wish things to stop simple say ‘Lucifer’ and I will stop whatever I am doing.  "You do like us to be scared don’t you, I thought we would be discussing what and how, not simply being told to visit."  "When you visit it will be a time of physical interactions, this will not be a time for you to serve me as a slave or for silly things like sitting at my feet waiting for permission to get up or speak."  "Ok, I just come and that’s it, you don’t want to know more about me."  "You are cute, you want to know more about submission and you called me.   That is all I need, I told you before it is for me to play without making you want, or need, to stop me; so all will be found out when you are here."  "When can I come and should I wear something specific?"  "What an entertaining fem you are, if free tonight come at 9 pm or come tomorrow at the same hour. As for clothes, if you wish to please then, as I am a male; heels, hold ups or stockings or bare legs, a thong, g-spring or nothing. Short skirt, not denim (hate denim), shirt with buttons and a skimpy bra or no bra, a coat may be wise as it is somewhat cold out."  "You sound like you have said that before, I will see what I can do and tonight would be best in case I chicken out tomorrow."  I gave her my address and added, “For your safety, and to make you feel a little more relaxed, tell your best friend you are visiting me, say about piercing if that is easier, and tell them you will call when you arrive here too. You will be safe here but it is a wise thing to be careful."  "I will see you tonight then, what should I call you."  "I will be waiting, and for tonight you can call me Demon.” I clicked the end call icon on my mobile and laughed out loud, maybe not such a waste after all.  I never plan what I am going to do with a sub, that way leads to disappointment more times than not, so I sat and watched my video till a suitable time came for me to stop it. I have a small pack of dogs so I sent all of them to their beds and went upstairs to change.  I checked to see that my playroom was ready and laid out my toys on a rack then, with 30minutes to go, had a quick shower and dressed in my Domly garb.  I decided to start the evening off on a high pressure moment, to see how she reacted, so dressed in leather trousers, knee length New Rock boots, vest and full length leather coat, all in black, obviously. To complete the attire I had recently made some leather gloves and a full hood, both with spikes and piercings, and these I put on before going downstairs.  I have a hallway leading from my front door to my kitchen with a turn to the right half way down leading to my staircase. At five to nine I turned out the light in the hall, darkness fell, I turned on the kitchen light, closing the door so only a thin sliver of light could be seen, and bought to life my cd player to beginning playing Metallica’s Black album.  I stood silently at the foot of my stairs, a still, dark shadow in the darkness, calmly wondering if she would come or not.  What a good girl she was, just after the 2nd track, ‘Sad But True’, began there as a double tap on the door.  I clenched my fists as a smile, which could not be stopped, came to my lips when the door opened and closed.  I have a tiled floor and her heels, clicked nicely five times before she appeared looking ahead towards the light in front of her.  I stepped quickly forward making a short, high pitched hiss to encourage her to turn a little towards me. Her head turned and, I am sure, she caught a glimpse of a moving darkness just before my right hand clamped over her mouth and my left arm swung over her shoulder allowing my left hand to grip her right arm, pinning her closely to my body.  "You came.” I whispered in her ear.  Her body was shaking violently and I could feel her breath coming in short, sharp, warm pants against my fingers, “Good girl, now control your breathing and relax a little, I have you safe and sound.” As I said this I used my right hand to brush her hair back over her ear and gently kissed it and, moving my head a little, I bit the lobe with just a little pressure from my teeth.  Even in her present shaken state, or maybe because of it, she let out a deep, long sigh and I felt her weight lean into me as she slumped slightly in my arms. Another gentle kiss on her ear followed by words spoken so softly they were more felt than heard, “Clever girl, pleasure and pain, fear and ecstasy and yours to enjoy or stop with a single word.” It is wise to remind a novice of their safeword I find in case, in the excitement of the new, they forget.  My right hand moved slowly inside her coat, which was of a dark material and almost as long as mine. My fingers slipped between the buttons of her shirt to rest lightly on a shear and half cup bra. Her flesh was very warm as I pushed my index finger under the top of the material and rolled her nipple under it then, drawing back my nail, I scraped over the small budding flesh. Another sweet sigh came to my ears.  I thought one more experience, before going up stairs, so my hand left her breast and moved slowly up to her throat and then, with a strong push, I sent her to thud against the wall and tightened my grip.  In the darkness I saw her eyes open wide as she saw my hooded face for the first time, “Sensations,” I said, “it can be all about sensations.”  “Upstairs, time to show you what the book could not.”  I released her and let her lead the way upstairs and into my playroom, the light was on dimmer so added a little dungeony atmosphere. I touched her shoulder to stop her then walked further into the room and sat on a chair facing her.  “Take off your coat.” I said.  I suppose it might be entertaining, and pleasing, to give a short deion of the girl at this point.  As I mentioned she fell perfectly into what I consider appealing, 5ft 7inchs tall, give or take an inch, a size 8 (I know such things as I sell corsets too) with breasts that fit nicely into my hand. Her hair, this evening, was shoulder length, straight and black with, something like burgundy hints. Her face was perfect, as only teenager’s skin can be, without wrinkles or lines and wearing black eyeliner and dark red lipstick.  As she took off her coat, which was a deep purple, I saw she was wearing a red shirt with full sleeves, a soft cotton skirt of a darker red that came to mid thigh, black fishnets and black, ankle boots, maybe, the same as on the first occasion I saw her.  “Hold-up’s or stockings? I asked, “show, don’t tell”  “You really don’t like small talk.” She said and lifted the hem of her skirt to show the lacy elasticated top of hold-ups.  “In case you do not know what these things are,” I waved my left hand to indicate my play furniture, “That is a St. Andrew’s Cross, a simple why to hold you safely, and securely, when being flogged; many like it this way, Dom and sub.  That is a spanking bench, you can lean against it or kneel on the lower cushion, also a nice height to fuck on. I have a pony, which is easier to show you it use than explain; maybe if you visit again I will let you ride it. And on the wall behind you there are many securing points if the cross is not wanted.”  “Come and kneel between my legs.” I said unzipping my coat and opening my knees.  She did not move and looked a little uneasy, “Be a good girl and come here so I can put some cuffs on your wrists. Now she came forward and knelt down, sitting on her heels and placed her right hand on my thigh.  “A little show of defiance?” I asked and not waiting for an answer I put on a leather restraint.  “These were the first things I ever made when I came to the Life.” She watched me intently with a small smile as I fastened the strap then, when it was done, she gave me her left hand for the other restraint.  “Close your eyes.” I said and once they were shut I said, “Open your legs and put your hands behind your back.” Her skirt rose up and I could see pale skin above the fishnets as she obeyed. I reached down and gently pulled my nails along her inner thigh and then sat back to look at her.  “In a few moments I will use some of my toys on you, I will begin with a soft toy and use it gently but then I will change it and use another type of toy and change again and each change will mean more sensation until it brings pain and maybe ecstasy”  I picked up a blindfold and told her to open her eyes and come closer. Once it covered her pretty blue eyes I told her to give me her hand and to stand up.  “Take off your skirt and give it to me.” She pulled down the zip at her hip and climbed out of the skirt. She wore a thin red g-string which was mostly lace and very seethough.  “Give me your right hand.” She did and I placed it on my left shoulder, “Now give me your right foot so I can add an ankle cuff. “Now your left.” Once the other restraint was on I ran my hand along the underside of her leg, over her hold-ups, across skin and gently touched the g-string with my finger tips.  I lifted her foot off my knee and, standing up, led her back to my flogging wall.  “As this is your first time I will let you keep your arms down by your side, I will still tie them as don’t want you covering yourself, but it is a little more comfortable this way. First though I need to do this.” I unbuttoned her shirt and took it off her compliant body. Her bra matched her g-string, cut low letting half a nipple show above both cups. I lifted out her left breast and sucked hard on her nipple pinching it between thumb and forefinger as I let it fall from my mouth, forcing a gasp of pain, or pleasure, from her lips.  I tied red rope to her left wrist restraint securing her hand about 6 inched from her side then did the same with her right wrist, then, before continuing and because she could no longer see me, I removed my hood and coat. I knelt in front of her and kissed her navel before tying a rope to her left ankle restraint and then her right, forcing her legs almost three feet apart  I sat back on my boot heels and looked at her, chest rising and falling quickly as she breathed in short, shallow breaths, one nipple, very pink, hard rested over the top of red material and moving down to more red material, wet and slick as her body, and mind, responded to stimuli physical and mental.  “This is a suede flogger.” I said beginning to gentle swing it in a figure of eight so that its movement caused a breeze that caressed her skin; goosebumps appeared over her arms.  I took half a step closer and the 18 tails brushed against flesh creating delicate slapping sounds. Downwards over left breast then right breast, from shoulder to nipple then, with a slight change of action, from hip to navel, left then right with not too much force, letting the suede tails move across skin once or twice a second.  I took another half step increasing the speed of my swing and the impact now made a very nice sharp sound. An added bonus, for me anyway, was that her hidden nipple had been forced out by the flogging action and the tails hit each pink morsel on each pass of the flogger.  Her skin was turning pink so I stopped and, discarding my flogger, ran my hands over her gently, creating marks with my nails and feeling the warmth I had created.  I have a very sharp dagger, broad of blade and 12 inches long in my playroom, I unsheathed it and laid the cold blade on her left breast, a nice intake of breath was my reward. I moved the edge across her breasts and under the right strap of her bra. A quick upwards pull and the strap split in two, a reverse journey, with a little more pressure this time, ended in another strap cut through. I reached behind her to unclipped the strap and her head came forward to rest against my neck and I felt a gentle kiss alight there. The clip opened (yes I can do this one handed) and felt the bra fall to the floor.  “More.” Was the single word she breathed against my neck.  “Obviously, little one.” My reply.  3 fingers of my right hand moved up quickly to slap the red material of her g-string, ‘very wet indeed’ I thought as I stepped back and reached for my red and black 36tail flogger.  Now, as the multi tails hit, her muscles twitched and small panted sighs came from her lips. Heavy, thudding hits moved a breast with each contact and made a wonderful sound as they hit her flat stomach, only a couple minutes of this and her skin was red and she was dancing on her toes with each hit  I stopped and dropped the flogger into my play bag and stood still simply looking at her, I had a strong, and strange, urge to untie her and carry her to my bedroom and gently make love to her for she looked so innocent and young tied against my wall. I had an overwhelming desire to ‘comfort, no wrong word, worship her was much closer to the mark.  Her head tilted to the left, as though listening for me, and then said, “Demon: Sir? Is everything alright?”  A slow smile returned to my lips and, stepping forward, slapped down hard on her left breast stinging the fingers of my hand. She cried out in pain and, no doubt, shock and her blind eyes looked down to her hurting flesh as her hand tried to reach up to ease the sensation  "All is just as it should be.” I said, “One more toy and then you can turn around for a time.”  I have two toys I call ‘little and big sister’, little sis is a whip flogger with a jointed tail section joining 8 shortish leather tails to the main body of the whip, very flicky and stingy; perfect for nipples and caressing g-strings with touches of fire.  Following the heavy beat from the music, heard and felt from downstairs, I flicked the tails at her legs, aiming just above her knees and, with a strong wrist action, moved the tails slowly upwards, hitting one leg then the other. I was tempted to aim at that small piece of red material but did not want to risk her stopping the play. I, therefore, moved outwards as I got higher and then continued moving towards her navel and up over her breasts. I was rewarded with many twitches, sighs and seeing her hands clenching and unclenching.  I pushed this play as much as I dared, as I love the way this toy touches nipples with fiery kisses, so I watching her face and body intently, looking for the moment when her strength, courage, tolerance or, god forbid, boredom got the better of her.  She was shaking her head from side to side, facing the heavens her mouth open sucking in air as though drowning, so I slowed my swings and eased off the pressure until finally I stopped.  Throwing the toy in to my bag I put my arms around her and pulled her to me, after a moment I raked my nails down her back – sensation upon sensation without time to recover or relax into a lessened state of awareness  “If you do not want this just says no, other things can still continue.” I said and slipped 2 fingers under her g-string and into her wet, warm cunt.  She almost screamed as she thrust her hips forward on to my hand so, smiling (being a sadist makes me smile a great deal), I thrust my fingers into her letting my palm thud into her clit.  I am a Dom, a sadist and I love to inflict pain but I do not like receiving it, so I had an entertaining decision to make for, as my fingers continued to make her body shake and quiver, her mouth found my shoulder and her teeth found my flesh and she bit me as the orgasm, I knew was coming, racked her body.  I added a finger and speed and as her groaning breaths moved against my skin I almost forgot my tortured flesh until she cried out, releasing her hold on me. As her body danced in uncontrolled spasms while waves of orgasm rippled through her the pain in my shoulder doubled up giving me an incentive to reinforce the speed and strength of my fingers lifting her onto her very toes.  “Oh god, stop please stop, for fuck sake stop, god oh god oh god.” Such sweet words tripped continually from her gasping mouth, and like the good Dom I am, I continued, She had arched her back, a beautiful human sculpture curving from toe tip to crown of head resting on the wall with nipples pointing to the sky,  I bent down and bit into her left nipple, teeth clamping hard, head pulling back and lips clamped to allow me to suck hard and long.  I felt a sudden explosion of hot wetness on my hand and she screamed in one long wild cry, second after second her scream continued  as my fingers and teeth did their work, “Demon, Lord, Sir, please, please stop.” she begged as the scream finally died  I stopped my fingers movement but left them buried inside her, releasing her nipple I supported her weight with my left arm as she straightened up to rest against the wall behind her. My fingers rolled over each other in the warmth of her cunt as I slowly withdrew them.  “Open your mouth”, I said, “You have made a mess on my hand.” This she did and as I placed my fingers close to her lips her tongue came out and eagerly licked them clean of her unexpected reaction. “Good girl.” I said as I watched her clean my hand.  “A slight rest, little one, then we will continue with more toys if you still wish it.” I watched her face hoping she would not want to stop. She said nothing as her breathing slowed. I asked, “Would you like some cold water?” With a slight nod of her head I said, “Stay still while I am gone, it will be only seconds but continue to rest against the wall your legs may not want to obey you if asked to do more than stand still.”  On impulse I gentle kissed her lips, tasting her cunt on them, before leaving to run cold water into a glass, returning I let her sip for a few moments until the glass was almost empty.  I placed my right hand, cold from holding the glass, against her cheek and let it travel over her skin to her shoulder then down her arm to reach the restraint. As I untied the rope I said, “I am not trying to break you, little one, I am not trying to release your hidden goddess or any other such sad drivel, I seek only to let you know yourself, your limits, your desires and allow you the freedom to enjoy and act on them.”  With the last rope untied and kneeling in front of her – I am worshipping again I thought to myself - I ran my hands up her legs and under the thin straps of her g-string and then slowly pulled them down her legs until she obediently lifted her right foot, then her left, to allow me to remove them.  I thought for a second or two, artistic considerations my only concern (sometimes my mind takes little detours) and then, making a decision, I removed her boots, ankle restraints then hold ups making sure my hands travelled slowly down her legs as I did so.  Naked, the first time is always so uniquely special, it is a shame how familiarity can diminish the beautiful sometimes - much too deep – maybe tis the fault of Metallica’s ‘Nothing Else Matters’ which is now playing.  No tattoos, no body piercings, (maybe I can add a piece of jewellery so she will never forget me) a tiny scar above her right knee, cunt, now swollen and pink, clean shaven, her skin red with a few subtle marks remaining from the flogging. Worshipping indeed, it is a good thing she wears a blindfold.  I stand and, taking her hand, pull her away from the wall, “Time to turn around,” I say, “Wait”  I leaned a 10 foot piece of wood, 10 inches wide by 2inches thick, against the flogging wall where she had been standing and then placed her hand on it, “Lean on this, it will hold your weight do not worry. It is best if you rest your head on your hands as this get your arms away from the flogger’s tails”  I caressed her back with my nails, leaving swirlling marks in her skin, “I have 2 toys like the ones you have felt, then others that are more severe, twin tailed straps in leather and rubber and then whips and for your arse I have paddles and a horse crop. You may be surprised how much you will like your back being flogged but I would hate for your front to feel left out”  Resting my weight against the full length of her body, crushing her against the hard wood, I reached around to attach a butterfly clamp to her right nipple and she cried out a little, which was pleasing, as it bit. I attached the other to her left nipple and said, “There is a chain between them, do not pull away from the wood or you will not enjoy the result.”  ‘Big Sister’ is a flogger with 12 plaited, leather tails about 36inch in total length, I stood behind her and, again using the typical figure 8 action, began to touch her skin, very gently to start and at a slow speed too.  Building up speed and strength over a couple of minutes she began to make sweet music of sighs and little cries, the tails hit with delicious sharp sounds of their own as I began to punctuate the pattern of swings by sending much stronger whip like flicks at her arse, which, soon made her tense her muscles in anticipation of the next strike.I laid this toy down and picked up my purple and black Cougar (a longer 12 tail leather cat with 4in leather thongs at each tail end). I began again using this new toy in the same place and in the same pattern but then moved to my left, continuing to hit as I moved.  Once I stood level with her shoulder and about a stride from her I changed the way I used the Cougar. I now brought it down in single strokes, striking from shoulder blade to shoulder blade and moving down her back to her arse using much more strength especially when connecting, horizontally, on her reddening arse cheeks.  I could see her face as I stuck, and with each hit her teeth bit into her bottom lip. I said, continuing to hit, “Your choice, 12 hard strokes to upper back or arse?” she did not reply for a couple of seconds so I added, “And then I will take the clamps of your nipples.”  “Bum” she replied so I hit her hard on her shoulders and said “Bum, what”  “Bum, Sir” she said quickly after a gasp  “I was expecting a ‘please’, but Sir will do.” And then added, “count them as I hit in case I forgot how many and have to start again.”  She did as was told and by the time she got to 12 her voice was shaking as the strikes had gotten harder, “Good girl,“ I said and throwing the Cougar onto my bag I rubbed her back running hands over slight welts in her skin. Standing behind her I kneeded her arse for half a minute to ease the sting and then moved to kneel by her head.  “A new sensation now, what fun this will be.” I could see her face react as she tried to work out what I meant, “Your sweet, poor, tortured nipple hurt when the clamp went on but now is almost bearable. But when I take it off, new blood with rush back in, nerves will awaken and you will have an experience to file away and fear for the next time. Rubbing it will greatly ease the pain but do not rub it until I say you can.”  I held the clamp and because I am a sadist I twisted it first with a gentle tug, she squealed loudly, “Sorry little one, I just wanted to make sure you remember my words.” I pushed and the clamp opens, her nipple sticking to it for a second before coming free.  Her mouth opened and she sucked air in in gasps as the pain returned to her pink flesh, it was still flattened from the clamp’s pressure and I waited for a count of 5 then said, “You may rub it now.”  Quickly her right hand reached under her and he caressed her breast and nipple, a most rewarding sight. I let this go on for a short time still holding the removed clamp.  “Now then, time to repeat this joy. You get a choice.” I released my hold on the removed clamp and it swung down freely to tug gently on her other nipple, another squeal; being a sadist is fun indeed.  “You can give me a reward, for all my kind attention, and rub your nipple straight away or you must count 60 seconds before I let you rub after it comes off.”  In a most sweet and quiet voice she asked, “What reward, Sir?”  I stood and stepped slightly forward so my leather trousers just touched her upper arm.  ”You can open your mouth.”  “I don’t think I can count to 60, Sir, so the reward is wiser.” I noticed she was smiling and as I pulled down my zip I said, “I must be doing something wrong if you are still smiling. Open.”  I slipped my prick into her hot mouth and, leaning over her, put my left hand between her shoulder blades ready to release the remaining clamp. I closed my eyes as her head began to move and I felt her suck and bite on my, most entertained, cock. “Let me know when you want the clamp off and I will quickly remove it for you to ease the pain”.  Her left hand had found its way between my legs and was holding my left thigh, gently pulling me towards her in time with her head movements. Her right hand she lifted and laid, palm up, on her back, I thought, so I had easy access to the remaining clamp.  After a very pleasing minute or two she took her mouth off me and said ‘now’ and returned to my ‘reward’. Reaching over I pressed in the clamp and pulled it off dropping them to the floor. I heard, and felt on my prick, her squeal as she sucked harder on me taking my prick to the back of her throat, her left hand pulling me in and holding me there though her right hand did not leave her back.  Her squeal became a mauling sound as her body began to shiver and only after about 30 seconds did her right hand finally move and I saw her massaging her right breast. I may be a Dom and a sadist but this sight, with this ‘attention, was too much (I am a male after all) so I pulled myself from her mouth and looked at the ceiling for a few seconds. This only just did its purpose as once my prick was out of her mouth the sounds she then made, as her orgasm came and diminished, could have deflowered a priest.  Fighting an almost overpowering desire to put my prick back in to her, anywhere in her, I finally put it back in my trousers and pulled up my zip – will power, such a pain in the arse at times.  I went to my bag and found my leg spreader, a 10mm bar of mild steel I had fashioned a few years before in the heat of a furnace - not unlike the forging of a new submissive I thought to myself. I found myself kneeling at her feet again as I replaced her ankle restraints and then secured these to the spreader bar, forcing her legs 30 inches apart. I made the mistake of looking up, and the sight of her open and inviting cunt almost made me change my mind about where I had put my prick.  There is a metal securing bolt at the top of the plank of wood so moving to stand by her head I took her hands and tied them to it so she was stretched along the wood’s length.  “The toys from now on will be much more intense?” I said. “I will use each for a minute or so but with each change they will get a little harsher. You already have pretty marks on your skin but these toys will leave better ones that will last for a few days, shall I begin?”  “Yes, My Demon.” she whispered and I saw her grip the ropes that tied her hands.  I take a red and black leather flog with twin, 8 inch, tails and began it strike her back, moving around her, watching her muscles twitch as the stinging leather hit, from neck to arse, leaving growing welts on her skin.  I hit with a constant strength as I moved from her left side to her right and back again until I was back at my starting position where I took a step closer to her and, reaching, sent the tails around her ribs to contact with her softly hanging breast. Her back arched and she screamed in a short feral explosion.  I dropped the flogger and, as she clenched her teeth, grabbed the hurt breast and squeezed it in my fist, “If you are expecting one thing the unexpected is so much better.” I said changing my hold on her flesh and rolling the nipple between thumb and finger.  I saw a tear appear under her blindfold so asked, “Do I continue, you remember the word to end this?”  I could see her think and then she said, “I remember but I don’t know, I think, I think I want to say stop.”  “ok, I will continue with a different sensation, use the word when you know you are sure about ending things.”  I untied her hands, along with one end of the spreader bar then said, helping her stand up, “I just need you to turn around and lay back on the wood.”  She was a little shaky as she stood so putting my arm around her I held her tight. As I did this her head lifted up so I kissed her and was pleasantly surprised as her tongue forced its way into my mouth. The kiss continued and my hand found its way between her legs and a single finger entered her gently slipping in and out as she lifted her left leg to give me easier excess.  “Enough.” I said removing my finger and mouth from her body, I helped her back onto the sloping wood and again tied her hands high above her head, to the securing bolt, I then secured the spreader bar between the ankle restraints under the wood. The bar has a loop at midpoint and to this I tied a length of rope, the other end I tied to the flogging wall, pulling her feet back under her arse and lifting her cunt high as her hips where pulled wide due to the width of the plank.  I sat on the chair I had used earlier and took off my boots and then trousers. I found a condom and with a little concentration, put it on then selected a horse crop, which had two short leather tails about 2 inches long, and moved to stand at the foot of the wood plank.  With small, sharp movements of my wrist I sent the tails across her nipples, first one then the other, hitting 10 or 12 times in a staccato rhythm then changing the target to hit once between her legs, on soft pink lips which stood, unexpectantly, open. I repeated this 3 or 4 times until I judged I had risked enough and she had had enough.  I moved to stand by her side and, while I stroked her body from nipple to inner thigh, I whispered in her ear, “Some do not think fucking is part of BDSM so I shall ask if you wished to be fucked before I do it as part of this experience.”  “Yes, Sir,” She said with a small smile. “or, Yes Please if you prefer.”  I untied her hands and she let her arms hang down at her side as I lifted my right leg over the plank so my prick was an inch or two from her and said, “Do not be cheeky, little one, you are still tied and just because I will be fucking you does not mean it will be the only sensation you will have  I inched forward and, pushing down on the end of my prick I slowly move inside her and like a good girl she pushed herself deeper onto me. I stood still, prick buried in warmth, and using the crop’s leather tails drew sensual trails across her skin from nipple to nipple to navel to clit and back again. Within a minute she raised her hands and held them again my hips as she began to move on my prick, drawing herself off and then pushing down to rub her clit against my groin as I stood immobile, her breathing began to get faster and, as her nails began to dig in, I saw the growing need she had for me to move inside her. Realising the moment had arrived I rested the crop across her belly and, putting a hand on each of her breasts, leaned down to kiss her ear.  My full weight was pressing down on her, crushing nipples against ribs through the flesh of her breasts. I thrust into her, my movement, adding more pressure and pain, caused her to groan loudly, “I will fuck you for as long as you stand the pain.” I whispered and, pushing myself up on to straight arms, continued to fuck her going as deep and fast as her mirrowing movements allowed.  My breathing was becoming fast as she placed her hands over mine and I saw her dig her nails deep into the soft flesh of her breasts between my fingers, ‘that is unexpected’ I thought to myself and took my left hand away to see what she would do.  Her hands squeezed and twisted her flesh, raking her nails across her erect nipple leaving lines as red as those I had given from my flogging.  “Harder.” A single word, she said, between gasping breathes as she reached for my left hand.  Making my hands into fists I pressed my knuckles into her breasts as her hands returned to my hips.  I fucked and forced my weight onto her as a building pain built in my hips under her hands, looking down I saw a bright red drop of blood on my skin, red lines, from this dear girl’s nails, mirroring her own marks; a small price to pay  I did not think I would be able to make her cum, or decide to stop this pain, before I came but suddenly her head thrashed from side to side and the raking of my skin stopped. She made no sound, did not breathe as her fingers spread wide and muscles moved in slow waves under the tight skin of her stomach.  I came a second later and, fighting the mix of pain and pleasure in the tip of my prick, continued to thrust into her until her movements calmed down.  A second’s pause, heart pounding, breathing trying to fill my lungs, vision clearing from an unnoticed unfocused gaze, I stand and let my prick die a little inside her.  I grasped the wood plank on either side of her neck and, leaning down, kiss her lightly on the lips. I gently removed the blindfold and threw it onto the floor.  Her eyes remain closed as I pushed myself up to stand looking down at her – fuck she was beautiful.  Her eyes opened slightly, they shine, a small smile comes to her lips and letting her arms fall to her side she closes her eyes again as the smile grows bigger.  Sadly, oh so very sadly, I pull myself out of her and stepping over the wooden plank sit down on the chair because my legs are shaking in a most entertaining fashion.  We stayed like that for about 5 minutes, her smiles, fading then bursting out bigger than before as the minutes pass.  I pulled on my trousers, discarding the condom into a bin, but remained barefooted as I moved to her shackled feet. I knelt down - I seemed to always be on my knees in front of her – and unbuckled the nearest restraint. Reaching under the plank I finally managed to unbuckle the other and, as if by magic, found myself within reach of her glistening cunt.  Like the nice Dom I am I lowered my head and, after one long, slow lick, bit gently into her soft pick lips, she tasted sweet, naturally and with a hint of strawberry from my used condom.  After a few seconds I stood going to her side to help her stand but as I got close she reached out and put the fingers of her left hand in to my unzipped trousers. I stopped and she pulled out my prick and, with a gentle tug, she led me back to her mouth, slow and gentle this time she held me with soft licks and sucks.  With eyes closed, her right hand moved slowly to go between her legs, with slow strokes, she put two fingers inside her.  I am old, but luckily not that old, for as I watched and felt her actions my prick came back to life. I took in what she was doing and let myself react as my body wished with no attempt at self control.  With a full prick in her mouth her fingers moved faster and, again, erotic moans began to come from her mouth vibrating on my shaft.  “I am going to cum.” I said giving her time to withdraw her mouth, if she wished, but she sucked as before and her fingers gained speed and strength adding wet sounds to my already stimulated senses.  I had to grab, with equal strength and need, the plank for balance and her hair to pull her on to me as I came in four strong spasms. She sucked, swallowed and bit as I came and I could not stop a cry cascade from my lips which went, something like, ”fffuuucckkkking jeeeeeeesus fucking Christ” as I tried to pierce the back of her skull with my softening prick.  As I died again, this time in her mouth, she gently sucked and licked until after a minute or so she took her mouth away, looked up at me and said with a smile, “Hello, Demon, my name’s Amy.”  The End - i think?

SO,YES.I AM TOO MUCH. YOU ARE HERE TO CATER TO MY DESIRES.NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND,ACCEPT IT OR MOVE ON.JUST LET ME KNOW.

How long does it take to inspect a piece of meat? I will start this little entry to My Journal with a quote from My writing about the first meeting with a prospective slave property, “Inspection may take just a few minutes. How long does it take to inspect a piece of meat?” This sentence was intended to address what I hope to find in a slave’s mentality. I want a slave to approach its possible future life as a piece of property as though it were on the auction block. When it is on the block, what ever trauma it experienced in the process of ending up naked on display available to the highest bidder, is not on evidence. Such trauma, or in the case of My inspection, is irrelevant to the ongoing process of slave acquisition. What I care about is the slave’s sacrifice to be exposed to My inspection with hope, but, maybe without expectation that it will become My property. Much like the slave on the auction block, to be viewed and passed by, rejected, by many and bid on by few up to gaining residence with a previously unknown Owner. A word about rejection. (Forgive My digression.) Many slaves that are into humiliation as an element fueling their need to become ‘less than’ have discovered rejection as an incredibly powerful humiliation and, therefore, a delicious element in the humiliation paradigm they inhabit. Others fear even the thought of rejection as the ultimate sanction from a Superior. Rejection bights deep and hurts in a long lasting fashion for many slaves. Some slaves think rejection is the worst form of punishment. The thing is, when I wrote the ‘piece of meat’ comment I did not expect that I would reject a prospective property at one look. The comment was more allegorical of the feeling a slave may have of being exposed on auction than actually running the risk of being immediately rejected. And then it, the piece of meat inspection and rejection, happened. I have inspected many slaves. I have delved into their mouths for teeth and brain for thinking. I use exhaustive questioning at times, but, always with the idea that this particular ‘meat’ would be what I am looking for. But the most recent inspection was different. My first look at the prospect caused Me to utter, “it is an ugly fucker, isn’t it?” Brutal and ‘unfair,’ might be the assessment of a casual observer. However, it was a truth spoken by Me to engender a response from the slave that would tell Me much about its attitude. The response it gave, “yes, Master,” was encouraging to Me. Nevertheless, My desire to own this particular piece of chattel went down hill from that instant on. I had picked it up at the airport. Driving to a restaurant for the initial part of the inspection, I always do the first face to face to face in a public place, I kept glancing at it. Each glance made Me feel more ill at ease. Until, I gave up on the restaurant idea and pulled to the side of the road. Looking it squarely in its eyes, I told it there was no way I want it and that I was taking it back to the airport. Yes, something happened inside of Me. I am not able to describe it other than it was the opposite of ‘love at first sight.’ Yes, it did not take that long to look at a piece of meat and reject it. Yes, I am a sadist. However, I am not sadistic without bounds. I am not attracted to killing or snuff fantasies. Nor, I am interested in severing limbs or causing bodily injury that might require anything but most minimal medical attention. With this ‘piece of meat’ experience I have found a new limit to My sadism. I did not enjoy rejecting it. Actually, I felt a slight tinge of remorse later when thinking about what My behavior. So, it turns out I have psychological bounds as well as physical to My sadism. Any thoughts, even negative, the reader may have on My little incident would be appreciated.    

Chickens and eggs, carts before horsesBigSigh .. 1st visit, Excellent.  2nd, smh .. Idk which was more detrimental,The combo of miscommunication and misrepresentationor My own error in not insisting on sticking to My original plan anywayBut was led to believe it would be integrated ..  however, wasnt .Then today a previously hidden but suspected piece of the puzzle was revealed, and now the whole pictures clearer, but lost much of its allure.. Shame, bc the issues wouldnt have been issues if theyd just been discussed, and or handled better. Wish it all had been .. ah well.. smh .. hindsight sux Only bright side Im capable of coming up with atm is; they keep weeding themselves out quick as spit 

Things have been very rough this last few years. In the middle of the horror I discovered my exact needs and desires. All are leaning to 24/7. A TRUE EXPERIENCED Dominant. One compatible of course. One with similar interests as we need time together outside of just bdsm. I need fully trained. Supervised. Someone who pays attention when I think I can get away with something though I try my best to be a good girl. Someone to nurture me. Guide me. Ensure I hydrate and eat properly.  I need the rules. The punishments. The after care and the sincere love. I am in a vanilla relationship and beyond unhappy.  I have had limited human contact in years. The vanilla is too old. Impotent and zero desire. We live separate lives. I am more of a care giver.  I am willing to move almost anywhere but as a full time submissive.  I'm too poor to use what little I have to move in and find out we aren't compatible.  So meeting 1st is a must. I am fine with a hotel or cabin or even fly to you but trust must be established.  I will accept nothing other than EXPERIENCED. I am not switch. I'm fully submissive.  I want 24/7 but also would like a little loosening on my chain to feel semi normal. Yes I expect completely your knowing my comings and goings at all time. Mutual interests are time well spent. What are you looking for in a submissive?  

Dazzling, as if illuminated by a celestial spotlight, she stood next to the passenger door of a Black Mercedes-Benz Roadster.   Parked next to the light pole, the image of her, the car, and the reflective light was surreal.   “Door” she snapped. “ Get my door boy!” Head down he realized she wanted him to open the passenger door. Once open, she backed up to the car, in one graceful fluid motion she bent forward simultaneously sliding her round firm bottom into the leather bucket seat. Clutching her handbag she again snapped “ Close the door boy!”   It took a moment for his brain to adjust to his reality. Closing her door, he went to the drivers side and got in.   Fear of the unknown clouded his brain and overwhelmed his senses.   Her perfume. Her smell. The Leather smell. The car smell. He came aware with the click of her seatbelt. He did likewise. She reached from her seat and started the engine and turned the stereo on. Soft quiet smooth Jazz surrounded them.

Just a note — I'm probably not going to gel very well with other sub trans girls, but I'm happy to share pics and chat about our desires, so please don't hesitate to contact me if you like what you see in my profile.   Also, again a note for trans Dommes — I like Mommy Dommes who know that D/s goes both ways. I will happily fluff your ego and make you feel great about yourself if you can treat me like a baby girl who needs pampering, attention and love just in the same way. I will be as obedient to you as I can without doing anything immoral or illegal, of course, and I'll flatter, obey, pump up your ego, and be sweet and submissive to you just like a subbie baby girl or DMlg sub should be.   Same applies if you're an exceptionally good Daddy or Mommy cis Dom/me. I see so many selfish and egotistical profiles from most Dommes which are a huge turn off — the lecturing about throwing away your ego as a sub will work out long-term when you're ready to throw away your female or male ego as a Dom/me, and realize that you're serving your subs needs like they serve yours. They're your priority too, and you need to make them feel good about themselves serving you if you want them there forever. A young and horny boy or girl will serve you to get their needs for some sexual satisfaction fulfilled, but they'll be tired of your galaxy-sized ego saying that you're always right and they're always wrong just because of your relationship dynamics.A similar idea for subs: Please don't ever neglect the need for aftercare for Dom/mes too. They need it as much as you, and they're probably less confident, powerful and in control than you think. It's still a roleplay in a sense, and they have the same doubts as you about their performance. Before or after you get confirmation from them that you were a good boy/girl, be sure to puff up and stroke their egos too and tell them how you loved serving them, that they're a great Daddy/Mommy, etc. Please use your imagination. If your owner isn't good at communicating this back, be sure to ask them for an ego boost and validation as well. Don't stay with them if they become selfish and demanding, though, this is not a one-way street. You have valid needs and you need to ask for them to be fulfilled, too.

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

I am well aware of the nature of this site. A place where individuals indulge in their wildest desires and fetishes. However, I cannot help but ponder on the intricacies of my own desires. I do not find superficial compliments or shallow attempts at flattery to be of any interest to me. I am not impressed by those who claim to have read my profile, only to immediately express their desire to engage in carnal acts with me. It is possible that I have come to the wrong place to satisfy my true desires. What truly ignites my passions is the ability to engage in a meaningful conversation with someone. Discussions that range from the trivial to the serious, the playful to the flirtatious, and even the melancholy. The back and forth banter that flows effortlessly, covering a wide range of topics, from our personal relationships to the state of the world. And, of course, the subtle glances and touches that make us lose all coherent thought. Is such a connection still possible in this digital age? I often find myself questioning if I am living in a fantasy world. But, then again, the mere thought of it ignites a fire within me. Perhaps, someday, I will find it once more.

Everything He Has, Until There Is Only Me There is a particular music to it that I do not think you can understand until you have heard it in a room that belongs to you, with someone who has given you permission to play. The crack of a whip is not violence. It is punctuation. It is the sound of a sentence ending exactly where you intended it to end, clean and final and ringing in the air long after the moment has passed. It lands and the room holds its breath and in that held breath is everything: the authority that swung it, the surrender that received it, the particular electricity that lives in the space between the two. I feel it in my wrist first, then in my chest, then in the slow, satisfied warmth that moves through me when something has gone exactly as I intended. The skin that receives it blooms and I watch that blooming the way an artist watches a canvas accept color. With attention. With pleasure. With the specific pride of someone who knows their medium. The paddle is a different thing entirely. Where the whip sings, the paddle speaks in a lower register, a hard and resonant thud that you feel in your bones before your skin has finished deciding what happened. There is no elegance to it and that is precisely the point. It is blunt and declarative and it leaves no room for ambiguity. You know what it means when it lands. You knew what it meant before it landed. The sound of it fills a room completely, the way a bell fills a room, and the echo of it lives in the body for hours afterward, a reminder that resurfaces every time you shift your weight, every time you sit, every time your body moves against itself and finds me there, already waiting. The cane is my favorite. I will not pretend otherwise. There is a patience to the cane that suits me. The way you must take your time with it, must place it with intention, must understand that it is not a blunt instrument but a precise one. The marks it leaves are not accidents. They are calligraphy. Long and deliberate and raised against the skin like script, like something written, like the physical evidence of a conversation that only two people in the world were present for. I trace them afterward sometimes, these lines I have drawn on a body that belongs to me, and feel the same quiet satisfaction that I imagine a sculptor feels running a hand over finished stone. I made this. This is mine. You will carry this for days. And my own skin, where the energy moves through me like current, where the act of wielding produces its own particular heat, a tingling that lives in the palms and travels, that settles somewhere behind the sternum and glows. I glow. There is no more honest word for it. Something in me lights from the inside when I am in full possession of my own authority and someone is receiving it with everything they have. Neruda wrote that he wanted to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees, and I have always understood this not as tenderness alone but as inevitability, as the specific hunger of something that transforms whatever it touches simply by being what it is. That is what I want from you. Not your performance of devotion. Your actual transformation. I want to be the thing that happens to you, the season that changes the look of everything, so that you cannot see your own hands without thinking of what they are for, cannot move through a room without feeling the architecture of my expectations around you like a second skin. I want to wring you dry. Not cruelly. Completely. I want every thought that crosses your mind to carry my fingerprints on it, want you so thoroughly oriented toward me that pleasing me stops being a task and becomes simply the direction your nature moves, the way water moves downhill without deciding to. I want your first thought in the morning to be what She needs today and your last thought at night to be whether you gave it well enough. I want the obsession to be so total that it clarifies rather than confuses you, the way a religion clarifies the faithful, the way a vocation clarifies an artist who has finally stopped pretending they could have been anything else. Bring me what delights me. You know what it is because you have paid attention, because attention to me is the one thing I require above all others and you have either given it or you have not. By now we both know which. The particular tea, the correct temperature, in the cup that fits my hand the way I like. The flowers I mentioned once three months ago that I did not think anyone was listening to. The way a room should be before I enter it, the light and the temperature and the specific quiet that tells me someone has thought about me before I arrived. The knowledge, brought to me unprompted, of something I would want to know. The book left on my nightstand, the right one, chosen not from a list I gave you but from everything you have learned about the country inside my mind. Shower me in it until I glow. Charlotte Bronte understood this, I think, better than she is given credit for. Rochester did not love Jane Eyre the way men in novels usually love women, as a soft and worshipful thing, a pedestaling. He loved her with his whole difficult complicated weight, loved her as his equal and his better and his necessity, and she received it not with flutter but with the straight-backed dignity of a woman who has always known her own worth and was simply waiting for someone else to catch up. That is the love I recognize. Not the love that flatters but the love that sees, that is almost furious in its recognition, that cannot look away because looking away would require pretending the world is smaller than it is. Neruda again: I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees. Yes. And also: I hunger for your sleek laugh and your hands the color of a furious harvest. The wanting in Neruda is never polite. It is consuming and precise and it names its object with the specificity of someone who has studied what they love until they know it better than it knows itself. That is the quality of devotion I am describing. Not the vague warmth of general affection. The focused, detailed, almost scholarly hunger of someone who has made another person their life's primary text. Learn me that well. Want me that specifically. Bring it to me not in grand declarations but in the ten thousand small and correct details that prove you have been paying attention every single day, that prove my preferences live in you the way music lives in a musician, available instantly, expressed naturally, impossible to separate from who you have become. And when I glow, and I will glow, when something in me settles into that incandescent satisfaction of being known and tended and

I am NON-BINARY and I use They/Them/Blue pronouns. ALL submissive candidates will need to c0mplete The F0rm. It's lengthy, it's personal, and it might require some thought on your part. It's a job application. If you want the job and the benefits, then it's worth your time and effort. If you cannot visit or meet within 6 to 8 weeks, then don't waste my time or yours. Come back when you're ready to serve.

Another day, another thought... It is a hot one in NYC - 92 degrees F/33 degrees C. Surely there needs to be some ice cream. As the owner savours hers under the shade of the umbrella on the lounge chair. The near naked pet dutifully eats its share from her feet. She is in a breezy tube top summer dress with tropical print. It is only wearing metal cuffs around its wrists and ankles, a collar that connaspects to a anal hook, and a cock cage with chains tethered to the owner's lounge chair. It is licking and sucking fast to make sure that not one bit of that ice cream runs off of the owner's white polished toes or small feet as the consequences of wasting the owner's kindness will be dire. Then... Wouldn't you like to know. ;-) 

I lost someone this week.  No we weren't close lately.  We used to be.  Our relationship was never defined, it was loosely maintained, but we popped in and out of each other's lives over the period of several years.  He was my first introduction to bdsm and the only D type that I could truly call a close friend at any point.   He is the only one who ever took me to that amazing place that every sub reaches for, and when I used to write, I wrote about our times together.  Those are still some of my favorites to look back on.  He was also there to cradle me in his arms and comfort me when a scene with someone else went really bad.  He was there to help me figure out what I was and wanted without pressing himself on me, so that I would be safe in the future and make better choices about who I interacted with.  He served as my protector for a while, when I was feeling vulnerable but didn't know if I wanted to step back from the scene at that point.  He never made me feel like a burden.  He helped me in my kink life and he helped me equally in my vanilla life.  I knew he was sick but he didn't let on how bad it was. I found out on the book of faces.  He is gone now, and I wish I could have been there for him, but he didn't want anyone to know the extent of his illness.  That was his way. Goodbye SkyMaster.  You will always be loved, you will always be appreciated.  I have nothing but warmth in my heart and in my soul for you.  I can say that about VERY FEW people in my life.  You will always be missed.    

Some things I enjoy that don't fit neatly in a check-the-box type space, and are fun to explore once the service need is met: Predicament bondage - putting the sub/slave in a position where they are bound from full movement, and maybe can't qutie reach something, say a fleshlight just out of reach of their errection, or in a more mundane case, weights placed so that when they releive pressure on one body part, it shifts to another, making a comfortable position impossible. There are a thousand variations on this, all lots of fun. Obj-ect-ification (spelling modified to fit requirements of this place)- this can be literal "Be a table" or treating the person as an for pleasure, with a hood or mask or other thing that covers/hides their individuality.  Chastity - for the right person, chastity is a powerful tool. But not everyone responds to it in fun ways.  So it could be a metal or silicone device, or just the honor system. But it allows for a highly personal reward system for desired behaviors or behaviral changes, and shifts focus to the Dominant partner.  Obedience - and by this I don't just mean jump when I say jump, I mean I give a series of instructions, and the obedience is considered successful based on how closely to the instructions it is completed. Sometimes this is to build a listening skill, sometimes its for fun. 

orgasms She lays there air fron the fan caress her body she is trembling with cum running out of her pussy she enjoyed the fuck hair being pulled ass being slapped orgasm after orgasm after orgasm she lays on her pillow covering up she closes her eyes thinking he was done with her he spreads her legs finger fucks her demanding more orgasms at this point she is sore but she gives him what he wants he removes his fingers stuffing them in her mouth she cleans them off he grabs the dildo and shove it in unexpectedly he smiles in the dark he fucks her hard and fast with the dildo she squirms trying to avoid anymore orgasms he slaps her inner thighs she apreads her legs moaning loudly he says you know what i want so give it to me she orgasms 6 more times he removes the dildo and tells her to roll over on all fours he starts fucking her again she says thank you Master he says harshly shut up i didnt tell you to speak he rides her roughly she moans and keeps orgasming for him after he cums again he shoves his dick in her mouth telling her to clean it she does he pulls his underwear up and lays down beside her she lays down unable to walk shaking and sore pussy

I am pathetic.  After everything that happened I swore off this life. I deleted Fet, removed all my social media, removed all my chats EXCEPT FOR CS only because I was afraid in the next few years if I returned to this life it would take Forever to make a new CS account. Which I guess is good as I have 1 avenue I can share these thoughts. In summary, I'm pathetic. I didn't even last 3 weeks before I was deeply depressed.  Which doesn't matter as I don't have a Master anyways.  By the way Master Tim wherever you are now, dead or alive, you owe me. You owe me big time. I was newly married, a house wife, in my 20's and I went online (back then) on Yahoo chat. I had just found a book on Gor the first book in the series and I had questions and I didn't know what to do with these newly discovered feelings. I just wanted to know what this meant. I'm a black female who was married to a black man and I had shown him what I saw and wanted to engage it. My husband said what black woman would ever want that life. I was mortified. Is there something wrong with me? I just wanted to know. Then I found Master Tim. Master Tim you didn't have to show me the lifestyle. For 5 years.  You wanted to meet outside of chat day 1 of talking. I agreed and thought I'd was being smart by saying a public place .. Like the library. You pulled up an older white man with leather on and a motorcycle. You looked like you came from the wrong side of the tracks. I was young (in my 20's but truancy officers still stopped me), newly married, black female who was probably too naive for my own good. I watched you sit on your motorcycle. I knew it was you. You didn't look like you belonged here.. it was thrilling to watch you knowing you were just like in the books. You finally got off your bike and went inside. I wanted to see more, observe more. I went inside. I didn't see you and went deeper looking through the book aisles. You cornered me and said my chat handle. I nodded and you said you knew it was me something about being able to tell a submissive girl.  Side note: I have heard that over the years. A man would look at me and be like your submissive or a slave and I would be like how do you know. This always happened in a vanilla setting where I was not behaving in a submissive way to me but I was always called out.  I digress. You reached slowly to touch my breast and I didn't fight you or anything. I didn't know what to expect but I knew from the book and Yahoo chat this is what is to happen if He/You wanted. I got nervous and you stopped. What if we were spotted and this was my town what if a friend of my husband saw us... See I was naive and stupid. You told me to take you to my home. I nodded and did. JUST met this man and did. I was lucky you didn't hurt me. I brought you into my home and you whistled. I was proud of my house. You then ordered me to kneel and you stripped me. You put me in the correct position for kneeling and you touched my pussy and breasts. I was in heaven. I can't describe the feeling of being under that gaze that makes you forget how ugly and fat you are. That gaze that makes you feel womanly, sexy and that you'll do anything for Him. Master Tim gave me his address and told me to meet you at your house tomorrow if I was serious.  I was serious. I did everything you commanded. I was not perfect. I was tired. Annoying. Hell, you had to order me to fuck my husband (my first Master was so considerate). When you worked late, I went out with the "girls" at your commands so you wouldn't be bored. Tired up in the back of your party bus. The patrons thought it was a great gag. When you parked and they went to the clubs to party you couldn't leave the bus. We had fun. Whatever Master wanted. Needed. Then one day out of the blue you said your were sick/hurt and that you were moving to Georgia. And left. Just like that. I was released and you were gone. Over the phone. A year or so back I had begged you to meet me divorce my husband so I could be your slave full time. You said you couldn't give me the life I was used to. I'm not an idiot. I realized you lived in poverty let's be honest and I was upper middle class but that didn't matter to me. I just wanted this life but permanent. I thought I could say least prove to you that I was what you wanted but you were gone. I didn't even get a say. I was devastated. I was crying on the bed and my husband sat next to me. He said that our first 3 years of marriage/dating was hard but these last 5 years have been pure bliss. Now I'm home crying like I lost a family member. He gently asked if I had been cheating. I told him yes. That it was bdsm and he said he didn't realize how important it was to me. He would try. My husband found out I was cheating our whole marriage and said he'll be what I needed to be happy. I agreed. It lasted a mere thought. The man is just not built like that and I was trained in the strictest version of bdsm. He was doomed to fail.I was depressed sad and this life I can't stand anymore. Everything made sense with Master Tim. This... This life didn't.. I got divorced.  I've had Masters after Tim but ... I'm not worthy. I'm not submissive. I'm a slave. They are different to me. I get excited at options cuz I'm used to not having them and honestly I don't really want the choices. I'm a slave. I do as commanded. That feels right. I don't mind getting to make a recommendation but ... Yeah ...I'm too old now to keep looking for a Master. Youth is not on my side and my pretty looks is aging. It's harder to stay slim naturally and ... I really hate this life. I wish I never found that damn book. I wish I never had good Masters and then bad Masters but regardless Masters. I wish I could be normal and vanilla and that I don't long for the strict confined world I can no longer be a part of.  I wish there was a way for the pain to end.  It's so incredibly painful to be this way, I can't help it, and there is no counterpart. Its worse than being lonely. I'm a slave with no Master. I can't breathe, I can't think, I try desperately to never engage to not think of this life.  it wasn't supposed to be this way and like I said lated 3 weeks. I'm pathetic. 

I was here awhile back and left. Hello again. I propose a power exchange. About me. I am a strong willed woman. I know what I want in life and am patient enough to wait for it. I've been active in this lifestyle for over 18 years. I would describe myself as a firm and demanding, loving sadistic, that delights in pushing her playthings to the point that is just this side of no return. I expect obedience. I give love, kink and a place to belong (kneeling at my feet). The setting. I live in the woods on the river, deep in the heart of a vast and beautiful land. Where the sun rarely sets in the middle of summer and rarely peeks it's head out in the middle of its winter wonderland. The exchange. I want to play with you. To hurt and humiliate you. To tend your wounds and then hurt you some more. At the end of the day I want you curled at my feet with a hot cup of tea in hand while we share witty banter about the days many activities. I also want my dishes done. My floor scrubbed. My door fixed. My garage cleaned. My art room organized. My garden weeded. My front deck built. This could start as a two week vacation or a repeat visit but should end as a lifetime venture. Serious inquiries preferred.

Your Rage Is Somebody's Business Model   You keep complaining that you're stuck. Ugly, broke, invisible, cursed by genetics and bad luck and women who won't "settle." You've screamed this at length to anyone who will listen, usually right before explaining why nothing about it can change. Here's a question nobody in your feed is going to ask you: who's paying their mortgage off your misery? Think about how a dating app actually makes money. Not from you finding someone and leaving. It makes money from you staying on it — swiping, scrolling, almost-matching, checking back tomorrow. A user who finds a partner and deletes the app is a lost customer. The entire design, the whole dopamine architecture of the thing, is built to keep you engaged, not satisfied. Satisfied people log off. Now look at your podcast feed the same way. Every morning you feed forty-five minutes to a guy with a microphone and a jawline and a "no BS truth-telling" thumbnail. He tells you women are hypergamous liars, the deck is stacked, you were born on hard mode, and there's nothing to be done about looks or the "sexual marketplace" except maybe buy his supplement stack or his $2,000 cohort program that will fix it. You nod along. You feel understood. Then the video ends, nothing in your actual life has moved one inch, and tomorrow you'll be back for the next episode. That's not an accident. That's the retention loop. A guy who gets better stops showing up. He works on his social skills, gets a therapist, stops insulting the people he wants to interact with,  builds a life, and — shock — starts dating. He unsubscribes. He's cured, and cured customers don't renew. So the incentive of anybody monetizing your despair points one direction: keep you engaged enough to need tomorrow's episode, never healed enough to close the app for good. Compare that to an actual doctor, who wants you well and gone, whose whole ethical structure is built around making themselves obsolete to you. None of the guys selling you "alpha mindset" seem to want that. The diagnosis never changes. Only the product line does. This is the same principle as the Emotional Bank Account, run backwards — instead of somebody making deposits into your life, they're renting you a story where you're the permanent victim of a rigged system, and charging a subscription to keep hearing it. You're not paying for solutions. You're paying for permission to stay exactly where you are while feeling smart about it. It's a genuinely brilliant business model, credit where due. Feminism is Cancer, the wall, hypergamy, 80/20 — none of it requires you to do anything except watch, agree, and maybe buy the branded protein powder. Compare that to "go to therapy, work on your listening skills, get comfortable being told no sometimes, build an actual personality outside your grievance" — which is boring, slow, occasionally humiliating, and does not have a thumbnail. You already know what outcome you want, presumably. You just haven't asked whether the people supplying your information also want you to have it. Their KPI isn't your happiness. It's your watch time. If you genuinely want a partner — Dominant, submissive, vanilla, whatever — the first, least sexy, most necessary step is auditing who's been telling you it's impossible, and asking honestly whether that person profits from you believing them.

I was asked about that out of body feeling and how I delt with my desperate need to be enslaved before and after I was owned, I sincerely hope this helps the news subs slaves out thereWhat your describing when you "lose yourself" is called "subspace".   I was in a foursome with myself and three men.  Two men flogging my breasts while the third had his penis in me. As the pain increased I started to struggle and move even in bondage, The man inside me just stood there, no motion from him until the very end.   I went so deeply into subspace I could her the floggers slap my sweaty breasts and my muffled cries into my ball gag. I pulled at my restraints but not to escape, GOD how I wanted to play with my clit, my nipples burned and I was in heaven and hell at the same time.   When he started to pump into me with his cock I went almost insane. I begged and pleaded for that moment of sweet release even though I wass gagged. My tears of desperation flowing freely. He came in me and as he filled me with his cum I actually squirted. I had never squirted before.   Own who you are and be happy with that, Your period gone nuts since you have started being used? The emotions, both fear and ecstasy are doing that. It means you need to serve more often and not just on weekends or occasionally.   You can even thing out even with kids in the house. You can wear small nipple clamps in your bra when the kids are home. Same for your outer labia and panties. When you go pee diddle your clit but don't allow yourself to come. Accept the frustration and training as part of your life.   When I clean house, no kids here, I am forced to wear painful stilettos all day with clover clamps on my labia and nipples. I am not allowed to sit even once during the day so that my feet, ankles and claves get no rest, no mercy.   I am only allowed a shower once every three days but I must dry shave my armpits, legs and between my legs daily.   I am not allowed to wipe or wash after orgasm. I am required to wear my lust between my legs and on my thighs until I am told to wash up.   You can do these things to yourself and for yourself daily. Keep your sex soaked and your juices dripping and your periods will go back on schedule.   I sincerely hope that this helps   slave janet

So I've been getting a lot more hate messages from MAGATs of late.  I'm thinking it may be because the midterms are quickly approaching and they know new days will be dawning.  Some say this is not the place to express my political views.  I'd respond that my views are more about not wanting to attract tRumpanzees with no moral compass than being political.  But I'm often blocked after they show their asses which is ok.  I have no interest in convincing them they're ignorant pieces of shit if they still think he's a good president who is doing great things for this wonderful country. It boggles my mind to think there are still people who are supportive of him after its clear he needs to  be in prison or a nursing home. And that they're eager to defend him and vocalize their ignorance.  I'd be glad to have civil and intelligent discourses with them but they don't seem to be able to do that.  So AGAIN I will say PLEASE keep on strolling if you don't like what I have to say. That's the purpose of my rants.  Thank you for your attention to this matter. lol  

Lifestyle submissive man who is willing to accompany Me to munches and fetish clubs such as Pedestal.  Message me to get to know each other. First meet is at the Mawney Munch in Romford, Essex, England so live no more than an hour or so away. D/s FLR relationship sought with kink AFTER knowing each other at least SiX months. No instant gratification. I am on Fetlife so look at my profile. Also service sub sought for garden work. Mistress Whipplash Ma'am 

    I'm 5'9 160lbs and have a smooth/waxed body with a large smooth bubble butt. Dick comes in at a thick 7 inches and is circumcised with low hanging balls. I'm pretty happy with my package. Lean submissive. Little bro/son Or beta for an Alpha type.   Generally more passive or submissive in my friendships and relationships. I enjoy fitness, cooking and meeting new people when I go out. Enjoy breath play particularly during oral as well as being an overall submissive. Not only just in the bedroom but with him in general; taking notice of his interest and hobbies. Using that to find ways to please him until he feels satisfied with the disappearance of nuance stresses that plague all of us everyday. Having a Dom relax and not worry what he does or says and takes a breather without having to refocus on his sub and their needs is what I like. I get along well with confident dominant types. Getting to the point where I lower my inhibitions and use my body to bring out the gratification he deserves. To the point where I relax and allow myself to be taken under his control. I'm a sub male in general. I workout towards a tone fit build over big muscles to have more of a streamline body.

On collarspace today someone messaged me then blocked me so I couldn't reply. I deleted the email and now I wish I hadn't. Basically the person was bitching because of my stated standards on my profile. Three sentences, grammar and punctuation or I will block and delete the email. The person thought they'd be making this fabulous point by pointing out that collarspace has the wierd filter that zaps punctuation and replaces some words. Except I already know about that and it isn't something I block for. I was accused of assuming things that I don't assume, but the person, rather than asking, didn't find out the truth of the matter and rather assumed about me instead. There was more to the email, but it is always irritating when someone makes their own assumptions then accuses me of making assumptions about others. I could update my profile to explain that I know about the filter issues, but anyone coherent and eloquent enough to know about and ask about it has already earned their way into my good graces. And anyone who assumes THOSE are the punctuation and grammar issues that I'm talking about isn't someone I'm interested in anyway. I'm not worried about perfect punctuation, spelling, or grammar. As my profile says, "All initial emails with less than three sentences, or missing capitalization and punctuation, are deleted and the sender blocked." Maybe I can make that clearer, and maybe I will, but the person who thought they were calling me out but didn't have the courage to see what I might reply got under my skin. That kind of cowardice masquerading as bravado is just bullshit. ~Me

 I suppose I need to update this along with my profile. As I said in my new profile, I am currently living in Virginia and owned as part of a household so I’m no longer looking. I only come here occasionally to chat with a few people I’ve come to know. A lot changed for me at the end of last year when I moved here. This is only the second ownership situation I’ve ever been in. I have a scattered history with the couple who now own me so they aren’t a complete unknown but much of what is expected of me is very new. I am their new alpha and expected to manage the general household as well as some aspects of others that are brought in, either short term or long term. Their prior long-term slave left the household last month and they have taken on a new one, at least on a trial basis. I’m not sure if she’ll last but the mistress has faith in her becoming a permanent part of the household so time will tell I guess. For those who were curious about my tech gig work, I took a couple months off and I’m starting some new work next month. It’ll be tricky balancing that with my household duties so I’m not putting much on my plate at first. On the plus side, since I don’t have any expenses here, all of what I take in can go toward investing my future. I guess that’ll be yet another new situation for me.. lol        

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.

Year's ago I went to this intriguing open lecture from a historian who published a book about sexual novelty. He described meeting people with what seemed like an unusal fetish but could be linked back to a childhood encounter. I guess my early encounter links back to my childhood, seeing my mother neglected, disatisfied in her one relationship.  She is one of those Christian women, who has been with one man here whole life and put all her hopes and dreams into one man that shattered her expectations of a happy life and marriage. I guess I lived part of her experience, which is why I am extremely independent always pursing a life goal, always helping others. 90% of my life has been helping other people and I honestly can say if I was hit but a bus, my last thought would be I have helped thousands of people. Just self-reflecting I don't think my sexual fantasies are in the BDSM remit.  I think leather is overrated.  Owning a BDSM dungeon is just bad furniture and B&Q rope.  I just like the idea of three people, entering a space and saying fuck what other people think, what do you want to try and what do you enjoy and leave the rest behind. I am sure there will be some who will show judgement and these are always individuals ignoring the cavities of their own life filling up with shit.  Life really is too short and I would rather in my public life carry on as I am and in my private life explore who I am.

New year and new beginnings   After becoming active in March, it’s been a slow gradual progress getting back into the scene. I was weary at first due to the past weighing me down and the current situation I was in at the time. Reflecting back to where I was, to where I am now, I've come a long way and ebbing forward in becoming comfortable in my own skin and who I am.   It's been a massive change from no social life to meeting so many Brilliant kinky minded people, I find what was easy for me to interact with people with self-confidence was gone a long time ago, however big thank you to the people that have given me advice and self-belief,(even if I was kicking and screaming) to carry on and not to be discouraged about social situations or setbacks in the things that I do. So, a big thank you to all from me, for helping on my pervy journey.   What do I think back on 2023? Well, my plans and ambition has changed after moving and starting again. From dudgeon hire and Airbnb to just letting things come and go as they will, due to this I've gained so much freedom. Not being tied down finically and mentally that I'm now traveling a lot more than 15 years ago. Finding out and planning to attend old/new munches, clubs, workshops. Planning ahead for meets with people that I met along the way. Working on play Scenes and finally relearning my skills as a practitioner that I thought I lost all so long ago.   You don’t tend to realize, what was taken for granted can be lost or thought lost, I thought so for a long time, still do at times but it's the willingness to draw a line in the sand with yourself, to make a new start in thinking, to carry on consistently in what you're doing and where you're going, that what was lost is just misplaced.   I restarted this journey on my own and now joined with people on their own paths, it can be scary and daunting at times, it can also be exciting and rewarding but there is now one thing constant that I'm thankful for, I'm not on my own on this path anymore and I'm grateful for the close connections people have made with me.   So, taking a step back, what have I achieved? Establishing myself back in NW scene. That was my goal last year, but I've achieved so much more without realizing it. Creating a scene and doming in public display. New techniques in sensory and impact play. I am more proficient with the Violet wand and regaining my self-confidence as a dominant in styles of role play. I've been asked to mentor and accepted; it is a responsibility I take seriously and has helped me retread old ground with my own training from over 20 years ago. And last, somehow (I'm thanking the gods and certain people wile typing this) in the winter after taking up residence at club lash, I'm now Dudgeon Monitoring, I will always feel more comfortable working. It’s helped immensely to quickly orientate myself back as a semi professional in-house dominant and I'm honestly grateful this has happened.   Moving forwards to 2024 I have a firmer grasp of myself and what I am able to do now and what I want to do in the future. There are some projaspects in the works from group activities to self-improvement, some long term other short, but all kink related as I reacquaint myself back more into the lifestyle   My path may have been slow and gradual, but I've come a long way, and can look back knowing I'm on the right path. I still have a long way to go and don’t know if this path will end as new avenues open in 2024, but for now be mindful, live in the present, take stock, give thanks and appreciation in what you have. To stay humble, to stay hungry for the knowledge and opportunities that have been given to you and to always appreciate those meaningful connections that people give you.   2023 thank you   2024 I'm ready... more than i will ever be and I'm looking forward to what comes further down the road

From my group  -re-sharing here - Why language matters. Or, Darmok and Jalad. Jan 30, 2019 I had a reminder this week, (not that this week is that unusual, but some cases are more extreme than others) at how important it is to have a common language in any interaction we have with others. Most of our lives, the average American at least walks around hearing English, speaking English, reading English, and assuming they understand what other people are saying. And vice versa - they assume they are understood. And yet, so much of our attempts to communicate end in misfires.  Often, it's because we don't really care enough about the interaction, and we glide along on autopilot, comfortable in the status quo quality of our interactions. We are usually getting enough of what we need out of it that we often don't even question it. Often, if there's a problem, we make a scene to make it clear that no, that's NOT what we meant, or that isn't what was said to us, etc but unless we feel slighted, or it leads to the loss of something we DO value - a comment made here that loses us a promotion, or a question not answered loses someone's interest, or a tone of voice makes us concerned for a possible loss of status- unless it's serious, it's just anger and fuss and it's over. THEN, it may become a real issue, worth some thought, but by then, it's really too late. The miscommunication has happened, the thought process it started it under way, and a feeling has been had, etc.  Stick with me here.  At it's most basic level, language is how we express a thought. It's pretty common to believe that most of the time, other people from a similar area have similar thoughts to our own about a general variety of things. We expect that they want the same basic things, because we are all human, and most of the people we deal with were raised similarly, and had similar experiences. And that they will use the same words as we do to describe them. That's where the screeching halt comes in.  "Most adult native test-takers range from 20,000–35,000 words." That's a decent vocabulary. It should mean that most of us that speak English will have plenty of words in common to have a discussion and be understood with enough clarity to make it through most common joint activities.  That said, most people don't tend to think too deeply about words themselves. Which means when you start to want more than just "enough to get by" conversation, things can get a bit complicated. And in cases where you need to negotiate something VERY specific, in depth, such as the fine details of kink or what our limits are... suddenly, your vocabulary will not only need to grow, but become very precise.  I'm not seeing that as often as I would expect from the letters I receive. In fact, the majority of people that write me seem frustrated by the need for words at all, and irritated by the requirement that we spend some time talking about anything that isn't a deion of a sex act. Which baffles me... if you are wanting someone to tie you up, do ... THINGS ... to you, while you are helpless, etc, wouldn't you REALLY REALLY want to make sure that the things they want to DO are the same things you want DONE? Wouldn't you be DEEPLY interested in making sure they are the kind of person that honors your Safe Word, or who shares your definition of "honest," or who won't just walk off with your wallet and DVD player while you are tied down, or who won't turn out to be straight up batshit nuts?  I've had another rash of "own me" messages. Interspersed of course with the regular "total sub" offers.  The topic at hand isn't the "I'm a TOTAL sub!" who responds to "ok, go read this for me and tell me what you think" with "What? That's not what I want! I'm a SEXUAL submissive!" Or even the "i want to be ur slave" that can't obey enough to respond to an email on time.  This topic is about the problem that causes that problem in the first place.  I received one this week from a very pretty dick pic with an empty profile that did read enough to call me Domina, but obviously nothing else, so I sent a link to the "First Impressions" thread, and followed with "Consider Your Target Audience." You can guess how it went. Before he got to "Bye, Bitchhhhhh!" he told me he wanted me to "own" him. And he referred to himself as "very kinky like to be watched ! Masterbaiting live turns me on" (Yes, that's how he spelled it.) Meh. No great loss.  Later, sissy under consideration asked if I was at all interested by Dick Pic Guy. Aside from the obvious stunted mentality of thinking his naked dick somehow mattered, he was a good tool to explain the problem of common language/vocabulary.  While being turned on by being watched is very common, and whatever floats your boat, etc that he described himself as very kinky based on that was a VERY clear indicator that we weren't even speaking the same language in regards to kink. Much like the majority of the people that write me, he had an interest in something, and had set out to pursue that, and as it wasn't mainstream, they thought it must mean they were REALLY out there crazy kinky. (Hell, ex-husband number two thought anal was the height of twisted and kinky.) Now, obviously, there was no actual interest in submission, or desire to actually be owned, so there was no point in even considering trying to have a conversation.  However, if there actually HAD been interest, if he had just been a newbie and without clue, there would have been this huge gap of vocabulary to fill in before we could have ever tried to talk about anything more than "go for coffee, get spanked." Before we could get to "what turns you on" there would have had to be the initial "what do you know so far, what have you read, what have you tried" just to see what he MEANT by "kinky" or "spanking" or even "turned on." Did "turned on" specifically mean sexually aroused and only that? Does "masterbaiting" (sorry, but OMG LOLOL) just mean "wrap your hand around your dick and rub up and down with or without lube" because it could mean SO FUCKING MUCH MORE to someone else, and in my mind, doesn't always necessarily include anything physical. Ownership? If we haven't even discussed what the word "submissive" means in depth, how can we possibly try to define "Owned" yet? Are we talking an actual legal arrangement with signed contracts and documentation as regards to property, or do you just like the way the word sounds?  Because that matters to me. All of the delicate nuances of meaning hold POWER. Consent is POWER. I absofuckinglutely want to feel like I OWN you, down to your last molecule, if I am going to have that, and we have to figure out exactly how many molecules you have to give for that to happen.  "You just offered an unknown amount of you don't know what to a total stranger."  If you are handing out candy from a bag in your hand, "take it all" is easy. And taking that whole bag may be easy. Hell, I like candy. Maybe I'll want your candy. However - If you actually have a whole trunkful of candy, and you say "take it all" without sharing that "all" may be a couple hundred pounds of confection, that is going to make a difference. Do I like that candy enough to want a whole trunkful? Will it get stale long before I can eat it all? Are you going to throw a tantrum if I share that candy with a park full of kids, or is it truly mine, to do with as I please? Are you going to pout if I toss i

On Losing the Thread I have lost my job. Layoffs, because the market is what it is right now, which is to say brutal and indifferent and entirely uninterested in timing or circumstance or the particular weight of losing income when everything else is already precarious. I am not alone in this. That does not make it lighter. Chicago may not be where I land. That sentence costs me something to write because I have fought for this city, for the proximity to my children's lives and the future I was building here, and the possibility of leaving it feels like one more thing being taken from a season that has already taken too much. I wanted so much more than this moment. I want to be honest about that without dressing it up. I wanted the beautiful home and the man on his knees inside it, wanted to be served with the devotion I have written about and dreamed about and know with complete certainty I deserve. I wanted mornings that felt like the life I designed rather than the life that is happening to me. I wanted to be so thoroughly served and so completely held that the hard seasons had somewhere soft to land. Instead I am here. Tired. Hoping anyway, because I do not seem to be built for the alternative. But today I am allowing myself to say: this is not what I wanted. I wanted more.   I still do.  

I love this quote by Anais Nin.   I've adapted it for me: I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my submissiveness. I want a Woman lying over me, always over me. Her will, her pleasure, her desire, her life, her work, her sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a man, oh, God, as a man, I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a Woman at her time, her bidding.

AcadaMay CFNM End Of Year Ball - Saturday 6th December - Applications now open The AcadaMay CFNM Ball celebrates female empowerment through elegance, confidence, control, and connection in a respectful, sensual, and beautifully refined setting, but all dynamics of BDSM are welcome to attend. It is open to everybody, whether Dominant, sub, switch, kinky or just plain curious! Couples, single ladies, single gentlemen are all welcome. Step into an evening of elegance and intrigue at the Enchanting AcdaMay CFNM Ball where sophistication meets sensuality. Set in a stunning large and comfortable dungeon in North London this inclusive gathering invites guests to engage their sartorial splendour and immerse themselves in an unforgettable experience. This fantastic venue is fully equipped with all sorts of interesting equipment on two floors; St Andrew’s Crosses, Spanking Benches, Schoolroom, Medical Play Chairs, Queening Chairs and comfortable sofas and Chesterfields for relaxation and socialising. There is even a curtained 4 poster bed for those who may wish to have a private or public moment - a little voyeurism never did anybody any harm! The evening starts at 9pm and I would ask you to arrive promptly so we can get the party started and not waste any valuable time so that we can get stuck into the evenings events. In the interest of privacy and security I will send attendees the exact address nearer the time. Bring your favourite tipple which the naked waiters will serve to you during the course of the evening, and of course, your favourite selection of toys for your debauched use throughout the evening. CFNM (clothed female, naked man) males and CMNW (clothed men, naked woman) females are invited to attend in white shirt collar, black bow, white wrist cuffs, black dress socks and black polished shoes, otherwise you will be naked.  You will be expected to serve the other guests upon request. The dress code for gentlemen is black tie followed by fetish attire for the commencement of play. The dress code for ladies will be LBD and heels for the cocktail hour followed by fetish attire for the ensuing decadence. Whether you're a seasoned attendee or new to the scene, the Ball promises laughter, conversation, and connection among like-minded individuals who appreciate charm, class, and decorum and most of all, plenty of BDSM! With limited availability and high demand, we encourage early application to ensure your place at this exclusive affair. Come celebrate freedom, elegance, and community in one truly extraordinary evening.  If you wish to attend please do email for further details of how to reserve your place. email:acadamayevents@gmail.com Website: acadamay.com under CFNM

A lot of people don't realize who they are. Like my neighbor, who says she doesn't want to gossip, I suspect because it's frowned upon, and yet can't wait to get juicy details that are none of her business. She sticks her nose in where it isn't needed all over the damn place. I don't think she realizes how much she thrives on it. She definitely doesn't use it to her advantage in a field where it could be useful.  Or my pain in the ass direct boss, who loves authority, who has to be right, who treats women as slightly to moderately inferior depending on the situation. He's insensitive. He's loud. And he doesn't seem to give one single shit what anybody thinks. This man has no idea that people don't want to deal with him, men or women. That at least a handful of good people have left because of him.  I think a lot about who I am and how it is portrayed. What sometimes comes out instead and if that's me or reactionary. Then again, most of my life has been reactionary, so maybe I don't even know who the real me is. I'm learning. I made the decision to switch careers and I am giving myself a year to do it. Research, learn, prep, etc. And just like that, I care a whole lot less about my boss because now he's temporary.  It's another moment where my life is on hold, but it isn't. This time I'm like a duck swimming; serene above water, paddling like crazy below. I think I'm moving in the right direction in figuring out who I am and where I want to be. It begins. 

  Believe it or not, this is my first journal entry. all this time I had no gotdarn clue how to use it. Well here I go.. So...what do you wanna talk about?  (Hands the mic to you)     

So, this is working now, is it? This site is weird, but hopefully I can post somthing here without sending my profile off to limbo for another few years. Anyway, consider this an addition or replacement to what's in my profile, as appropriate: Lockdown's given me a chance to think more about who I am and what I'm looking for and I'm interested in discovering more about Female Led Relationships (FLRs) and the women who lead them. It's the mental and psychological side of it that interests me more than the physical part of it. I want to know what it's like to give yourself to serve and follow another, and if I'm capable of that level of giving myself or devotion to another. When i read stories of submission and dominance, it's the mindset of the submissive that interests and arouses me, not the physical element. That doesn't mean I'm not interested in the physical side of submission and surrender, but it's not my primary interest. I'm interested in finding someone to connect with for a relationship, but also friends and people who want to chat. I'm monogamous in relationships, I know people who are poly and it works for them, but I'm really not sure I could deal with the logistics of being involved with more than one person, let alone the emotional side of it. What am I interested in most of all? Knowing things, learning new things and discovering things about the world, especially the people that fill it, and especially myself because even after all this time I still don't even come close to understanding everything that goes on in inside my mind. I definitely don't think I'll ever understand everyone else, or the world, but it's fun to try and understand as much as I can. I'd be happy getting to know someone here who makes me want to write and think more, to discuss and explore everything and anything together be it sexual or not. I don't really mind if you're next door (well, I know my neighbours, and it would be a bit of a surprise if you were) or on the other side of the world, if your interested in getting to know each other, I'm happy to fire interesting messages back and forth.

I want to be a sissy house wife, something like a 1950's household but maybe the clothes might be updated, but the dresses are really cute, or domestic discipline, 24/7 TPE I believe in a male dominant house, a gurl should be a slave/servant to her man/master/daddy. Her mind should be on how to please him and care for his needs, her pleasure coming from being in his service. I want to serve a man domesticly, it is the job of a sissy housewife to keep the house how her master/daddy wants it. I also believe a gurl is a slave to her man/daddy/master. He should pick out her clothes for the day, give her a list of chores he wants completed, and train her on how he wants her to be, rewarding her for good behavior and punishment for bad behavior. A gurl should wake up somewhat earlier than her daddy/man/master. She should shower, shave and clean here before making him coffee/breakfast. She should be completely naked accept for her collar and cuffs, and wake him up with a blowjob. After swallowing his gift, she needs to prepare to be his urinal and swallow his pee. After this, she should help him shower if he wants, or wait in the bedroom on her knees for him to get done. Once done, he will pick out what she wears and she will put it on before serving him breakfast, blowing him if he wants it. She will see him off as he leaves the house and then complete the housework. She should then greet him on her knees as he comes home, at that time she should perform any tasks he commands before he inspaspects the house and punishes for anything not done or not done properly. Dinner should be prepared for him and served to him. At night, she should perform all tasks he gives her before bed. Her body and mind is her gift to him and she gladly gives it to him, this means he uses and trains her as he wants. Pain or pleasure, a good sissy housewife accepts both eagerly and enjoyment. I hope I find my man someday.

On the twelfth day of Kinkmas my true sub got from me:Twelve spankers spankingEleven croppers croppingTen paddlers paddlingNine caners caningEight maids a milkingSeven floggers floggingSix whippers whippingFive Ben Wa ballsFour anal beadsThree stuffed holesTwo nipple clampsAnd a red butt over my knee.

I smiled, as I pushed you on the bed, seeing as your body hit the pillow top and sink into its softness.I felt you, as you body contorted when I ran my tongue over the hood of your clit, like a pace horse.I was turned on, at the way you looked at me ging when I slid between your thighs.I melted when you ease into your role as you were given direction.I got excited, as I felt you explode after trying so hard to hold on to that feeling.I am proud, as you walk away naked legs shaking like a newborn calf.I feel relief when you put your head on my chest with a wicked smile on your lipsI can be at peace, knowing that the morning will come and you will still be mine.

One of the first things parents teach their toddlers is that 'I want, doesn't get'. We can't have everything in this world - and we certainly shouldn't expect things to fall into our laps just because we ask for them. But perhaps the point is more about the way that we ask. After all, if you don't ask for things, why would anyone give you anything? Of course, you have to prove yourself worthy. But it's important to be clear, so that other people are able to engage fully and clearly with our goals. On that note ,although we learn, when we're young, not to voice all our thoughts, I am  someone who's prepared to take risks when it comes to sharing ideas; I  don't suppress my feelings or opinions for the sake of polite pretence. I like being with people i  can be honest and open with.

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.

At the beginning of a relationship I try to keep surprises to a minimum. So I’ve written a short description of how I would spank the first time I did so. I do not spank really hard as the pleasure is over far too soon. I spank firmly and slowly. I call it a ‘Cumulative Dozen’. The first time you will have dressed as I instruct and will stand whilst I tell you why you are being spanked, it might just be for the pure enjoyment of doing so. You will bend over the back of a chair and I will lift your skirt, if needed I will hold you in place between my thigh and my left hand. The first spank will land on your far cheek, then one on your near cheek. I will then change sides and spank each cheek twice. Then change sides and spank each cheek three times, and so on until I decide to stop, or I’ve reached a dozen per side. Each cheek of your bottom could have received 78 spanks by this time. You will then be told to stand facing into the corner, holding your skirt above your waist and forbidden to touch your bottom. After a short wait you will bend over again, your panties will be removed, your legs parted and I will repeat the spanking. If you struggle you will be put over my knee and have your arm folded into the small of your back. By this time your bottom will be red and sore so the spanks will seem much harder than they actually are.  By the time a dozen is reached this time you will might want the spanking to stop. However if you have struggled too much, or clenched your bottom muscles too often I may decide to continue to 13, 14 or perhaps 15. One finished you will stand in the corner again, forbidden to touch your red bottom that you will keep on display until I tell you can move. If I have collared you the process will vary, if you would like to know how then just ask.

  Found this on a profile...well said:    1. The male must always practice respect, whether in private or public. Stand when she enters the room. Sit (or kneel) as soon as She is seated. 2. Be totally attentive: open doors, offer her your coat, she sits first, begins to eat first, and always ask permission to leave her presence. 3. The male should never speak unless spoken to, or unless anticipating the needs of his Mistress. 4. The submissive will never sit with legs spread or slouch in a way typical of untrained males. Good posture and decorum is a sign of respect. 5. The male will never stare at a woman without her permission. Unless the woman seeks eye-contact, they submissive will keep his eyes lowered at all times. 6. When walking with his Mistress, or any woman, the submissive will keep his gait in step with hers, which usually means taking smaller steps. The male should always be at least 1-2 steps behind, but not too far because he must open all doors. 7. The submissive must always be pleasant, never argue and never pout. 8. The male surrenders control of how he spends his time, how he dresses, what he eats, where he sleeps, the friends or acquaintances he is allowed to keep. 9. The submissive must remember that his orgasm does not belong to him but to his Mistress. It is Hers to use or deny... however she sees fit. 10. The submissive may never touch his own genitals without the permission of his Mistress. When washing, he must use a wash cloth or brush, never his hands. 11. The submissive should never buy his own clothing without the guidance of his Mistress. He should buy what pleases her, not what he likes. 12. When urinating, the submissive will always sit on the toilet... no exceptions. 13. The submissive must submit to eating only “submissive food” selected by his Mistress whenever she requires it. 14. When a meal is over the submissive must be quick to clear the table and wash the dishes. 15. The submissive must always give his Mistress the first choice of everything — She picks the channel on TV to watch, the restaurant to go to, the movie to see, the friends to entertain, etc. 16. The submissive will perform all household chores for his dominate, to include(but not limited to): sweep and vacuum all floors and carpets mop all floors dust and polish all furniture make the beds every day wash and fold all clothing linen scrub bathrooms clean kitchen Cook meals wash dishes set the table shop for groceries take out trash and sort recycled items run all errands

I want to roleplay as a cheerleader. You command me to cheerlead for you as you play a sport in front of a crowd.  However before I go out there you force me to wear clamps on my nipples, embrassing panties and stick a dildo in my pussy. As I try to cheer, you turn on the vibrator in the dildo and make me drip my juices while making it impossible for me to cheer properly Then when you lose you take me to the locker room, tell me I lost because of my useless cheer leading, while taking the dildo and pumping it in my.pussy while against a locker You then take out your cock and slowly pull out the dildo, but then give me no tike.to.rest as you shove your cock in me. You take out your frustrations on me while im in bliss while holding my pompoms, and cheering your cock. Your teammates then come in looking defeated and as they see us they join in to get their frustration out. The entire team then take their cocks and shower me in their juices while I wave my pompoms and my cheerleading out turns from red to white. You then put me back in your sports bag while im in estacy and say that you're going back to train me again so the team doesnt lose again.

It has been ages since I have been on this site so it will take me a bit to get used to the way this is set up. Kink: I am dominant, and am drawn to 24/7 Master/slave relationships with TPE, though I am not opposed to Dominant/submissive dynamics. In my head I think some of my tastes can be a bit extreme, I am well aware after all this time in this community that it is really just a matter of one's perspective, and I am down right vanilla in comparison to some. Other writtings and a more complete fetish list can be found on my FetLife profile. My interests include, but are not limited to: Anal Bimbofication Bathroom control Chastity Enemas Fisting, both vaginal and anal Humiliation Lactation Rimming Rough use S&M Toilet slavery Watersports Health: I get tested between partners, and when I am in poly relationships I get tested when it seems prudent depending on circumstances. I have both varieties of Herpes, and though I have not had an outbreak for over 5 years to the best of my knowledge, this is something potential partners should be aware of.  At my current age of 62 it might not be a surprise the I can have issues from time to time with erectile dysfunction. This is not an issue for me as I have always enjoyed using toys etc. and find a multitude of ways of enjoying myself.  I have for the last 2 1/2 years been dealing with PPPD which makes it seem as if the world is alway rocking 24/7 and leaves me with brain fog among a litany of other side-effaspects.   Other than these delightful tidbits I am healthy and in a shape.

so i must tell everyone i have found a wonderful Mistress.  She is stern, focused, reasonable, and a great trainer.  since i have been with Mistress, she and her assistant have seen me naked more time than i could hope for.  Mistress has done all of the following to me, each one is the first time the person has ever experienced this:  anal play with plugs, masterbating (2X) in front of Mistress and her assistant while assistant beat my balls and cock, trying on female outfits with wig, hose, apron, shoes, etc.  but the one thing Mistress did which i was not ready for, but the envelope was pushed, and i complied, was SUCKING ON A REAL COCK.  what an experience.  i enjoyed it as my Mistress was my teacher.  having Mistress see my me bob up and down, taking that massive cock in my mouth, kissing his ball sac, and fondling his balls while sucking.  he did not cum, which was too bad, but my Mistress will find anotheri am sure of it. so submissives, if you want a Mistress which will respect and train you come to my Mistress.  she is for real but you need to be also.

Structured Devotion: The True Depth of Littles in D/s     i'm reshaping some of my older soundgasm posts and transferring them to audiomack for more streamlined platform.. this was one sparked by a common misnomer about littles like myself by the old guard members of bdsm..or to be more accurate the loud old guard members who say that is their education, background, and experience in the scene and yet tend to be always judgemental of the evolved nuances of archetype descriptors of dominants, masters, submissives, and slaves out there. so if you want a slightly more(i'm still wordy and keep my whimsy and little-ness in the recording in there) streamlined version of an older concept of mine back in june, check it out. Littles often face misconceptions about being undisciplined or solely playful, but the truth runs deeper. This audio explores the structured, dedicated side of being a little in D/s dynamics. It challenges stereotypes, highlights the growth mindset, and redefines what it means to live a 24/7 lifestyle. From compounding discipline to addressing outdated narratives, this is a journey into the balance of submission and personal development. Let’s break the myths and explore the truth together!

DISAPPOINTED-  There is a difference between presence and performance. When we meet in public, energy speaks louder than words, and truth has a way of revealing itself without effort. I pay attention to alignment — between actions and intentions, between spoken language and written expression, between who you present yourself to be and who you actually are. Lately, something feels off. The version of you I encounter in person does not fully match the one you portray through your writing. Words can be crafted, polished, and arranged to create an impression — but authenticity cannot be manufactured. It either exists, or it does not. Our recent meeting here in Folsom raised clear red flags for me. What I observed in person did not align with the image presented through your words. When behavior, tone, and presence do not match the story being told, it signals inconsistency — and inconsistency erodes trust. We live in a culture saturated with illusion — curated images, rehearsed personas, half-truths, and quiet deception both online and off. Masks have become normal. Pretending has become easier than being real. But I am not interested in illusions, performances, or carefully edited versions of truth. Transparency matters to me. Consistency matters. I value what is real, even when it is imperfect, over what is carefully constructed to appear a certain way. Facades are exhausting to maintain, and eventually they crack. When they do, truth stands on its own — calm, clear, and undeniable. I am direct, observant, and grounded in what is genuine. What you see is what you get. I do not perform, and I do not pretend. In a world full of filters and deception, I remain authentic — as real as you will find. Be real. I can see through what is not.

I don't really like doing "negative space" posts, but a few things:   I do not do "sessions".  I'm not a prodomme, I'm not interested in casual anything.  If I pursue something, its because I think it has potential for an ongoing dynamic of substance.  I'm also not a findomme, and have no interest in folks whose primary motivation is in that realm.  Doms - some of your cohort are giving you a seriously bad name.  Here's what keeps happening. A Dom contacts me, says they want to do the equivalent of talking shop.  Within a few exchanges they're pushing boundaries, either telling me they want to flip the and sub, or telling me how wonderful they are and bragging all around, or in one case, attempting to pathologize my own participation in the lifestyle and dismissing any woman with interests in this realm.  Guys, don't do this.  It just makes you look bad, and I'm happy to use the block button when things go down that path.  You're here on a site for finding people who complement  your preferred power orientation. Go forth! Pursue them!  Have fun!  Just leave the Dommes alone, we're not buying.  Geez, what else.   Please be ready to engage in conversation of substance.  I'm not looking to chat forever, but I am looking to chat until I can see that you are a consistent, reliable, engaging individual who can connect with me on a materially significant level.  I'm not going to invite you to my off-site world unless I feel you've proven those things, because I don't need fifteen "hi" messages a day blowing up my phone from folks who don't bother to string together a full sentence.    Ahh, venting complete.  I might even delete this later, but for the moment, it needed to be said.    

3/21/26  Happy Spring........................ I have been reflecting lately on the people I have met within this community. I deeply respect the honesty this lifestyle can bring when it is genuine, but with time comes the clarity to recognize the difference between surface-level energy and meaningful connection.   For me, this has never been solely about the physical. It is about presence, trust, and an energy that transcends the moment. When you truly understand your desires, you stop trying to fit where you do not belong and stop reshaping yourself for acceptance. Once you experience an authentic connection where you can show up fully, you realize you can no longer settle for anything less.   I am grateful for the experiences and the people who have shaped my perspective. I feel more grounded now in what I will and will not accept moving forward. Real connection is rare, and I have decided to no longer entertain anything that doesn't meet that standard.   For a long time, I was simply pushing forward, always waiting for "someday." Lately, however, I have been sitting with a different truth. While I do not have a perfect life, I am envisioning a version of life that is perfect for me. We all have things that need to be healed or figured out, and many of us feel like we don't quite fit the ordinary mold. We think differently and require different ways of being seen—yearning for the specific types of love and service that only those within this community truly understand.   There is something honest about that realization. It is about recognizing that even in the middle of life's messy moments, there are still people worth meeting and experiences worth having. You don't have to be perfect to find what is perfect for you. Take the risk of being volunerable, take the risk of being seen or even hurt..... We have less years in front of us then we do behind us.. Risk the chance before you regret it.. Hugs, bumps and grinds my naughty kinsters........ xox

Nobel Prize Committee: George Costanza. Gears of War (Ginger Fish),  Cyberpunk 2077 (Johnny Cash),  Arkham Games (Chris Cornell), Left 4 Dead (Kurt Cobain), Dead Til Daylight (Kanye West). Gotham: Harvey Dent. Heath Ledger (MI-6 Assassin Services), Nicholas Maynard (French ExSec Bourbon), Cameron Hollopeter (NYU Film School), Andrew Donson (Firaxis Games), Michael Richards (NYPD).   The Matrix:  Cypher.   Venus Terzo (British Navy), Keanu Reeves (Hezbollah), Ben Brown (DEA), Sandra MacDonald (Vatican Sudan), Ivar Hennington (UMass-Amherst ROTC).   Harry Potter:  Voldemort.   Melinda O'Deele (Mutual Commonwealth Insurance), Joshua Moen (Haverhill Corrections), Ellen Page (Los Angeles Sheriffs Department), Gerald Friedman (Mossad Marine Corps), Marie O'Neill (Vatican Army).   007:  Raoul Silva.   Sayed Adnan (DARE), Roland Spencer (Coast Guard), Jenna Silva (Canondroga), William Morgan Jr. (East End Games), Alexandra Gaetano (Coolidge Fund).   Confessions of a Dangerous Mind:  Charles Hirsch Barris.   Michael Giroux (French ExSec Monitoring), Stacey Sahar (Nursing Disabled Chattel), Allison Haimes (North Korean Authorship), Matthew Lennox (Forbes Magazine Schlitz), Adam Luciano (Italian Prostitution Services).   Hail to the Chiefs: James Garfield.    Boris Yeltsin (National Rifle Association), George W. Bush (Confederate Southern Army), Edward Kennedy (World Bank Angiulo), Barack Obama (North Korean Gender Services), Hunter S. Thompson (Air Force Drug Enforcement Administration).   Grand Theft Auto: Tommy Vercetti.   Richard Kyanka (Gay Rights Iran), George Soros (Grocer's Unions MI-6), Donald J. Trump (Israeli Cocaine Sales), Marilyn Manson (Russian Intelligence Okhrana), Jack Chick (German Intelligence Comcast).