Results from bdsmtest.org 100% Dominant 100% Rigger 94% Master/Mistress 89% Owner 86% Sadist 84% Brat tamer 80% Degrader 73% Primal (Hunter) 53% Experimentalist 48% Voyeur 44% Vanilla 13% Daddy/Mommy 8% Exhibitionist 5% Non-monogamist 0% Ageplayer 0% Brat 0% Degradee 0% Boy/Girl 0% Masochist 0% Pet 0% Primal (Prey) 0% Rope bunny 0% Slave 0% Submissive 0% Switch

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

A note from me, K.  A bit of a look into our recent goings on. This was a big moment for me and I want to savor it. I had to break it up because it is quite a long entry.    M has been behaving really well lately! Behavior modification and control is my primary interest and all the implements of our lifestyle are just ways of helping me achieve that control. We have had the conversation regarding my desire for cuckolding before, many times. I bring it up quite a bit, I just can't get it out of my head. I need this for me. Back in 2019 M accompanied me on a few dates with potential bulls, but I don't think he ever thought it would seriously happen. This is very different from when I saw submissive clients professionally. I never ever had sex, I never ever gave head, I never even gave hand jobs. If my clients were allowed an orgasm, they would bring themselves off. M knew that when I finally allowed him sexual contact that we had taken a serious step. A premature ejaculator, he was and is a horrible lay and has never got better. I honestly didn’t expect him to. I got off on my control of him and absolute obedience, not his penis. And now while we have probably only had PIV sex 8 or 10 times in the last 3 years, I desire it more than ever, just not from my husband.  The pandemic drove us all inside and away from people we didn't know. The dates with potential bulls ended and I think M figured that was it. But, my desire for a bull has continued steadily building this entire time and has come to a tipping point. I decided to re-engage the subject in one very direct conversation with M last weekend. I have also decided to keep him on a more frequent chastity release schedule as positive reinforcement while we move forward in adjusting to our dynamic and while finding a bull for me again, in earnest. This conversation was for me to lay out my intentions in full.  We had scheduled this conversation for last Saturday a week before so that we would both be ready. We spent the morning at a farmers market searching for fresh produce that M would turn into a delicious dinner while I spent the rest of the day getting a massage and reading in our backyard garden. After dinner I suggested we move to the living room where I sat in the chair that I have for years been using for spankings and directed my husband to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of me. His lack of pants showed me his diaper was soaked and I put his pacifier in so he wouldn't be tempted to speak.  While he was sitting in front of me I explained to him first, that I loved him, that he had done nothing wrong, but that we would be renewing our search for a bull. His immediate reaction was to put his hand to his mouth in an effort to remove the pacifier so he could speak. I leaned forward, caught his hand and told him, “let me finish.” I explained to him that I would also be allowing him a more frequent release schedule from chastity, which drew out a smile behind his pacifier gag. I explained that his new permissions came with new expectations and that it was directly related to, as I put it, "returning to vigorously searching for a bull." His smile faded instantly which breaks my heart, but I have made my decision and know it will be best for us both; our lifestyle dynamic has many places left to go, but this is step one in getting there. I explained gently but firmly that he needed to get used to the idea of there being other men in our lives. I told him that I was completely finished treating him with kid gloves around cuckolding, that this was something I needed that he couldn't provide and that he knew that.  "M...we have come so far. I have emasculated you to a point you know that I could never take you seriously as a sexual partner. You know this and you know I need someone else, don't you?" He again lifts his arm to remove his pacifier gag so that he can speak. "Nope. Just nod your head, baby. Nod your head that you know I need this." 

So this one time at cheer camp all of the girls were stark naked in the locker room. As all the girls of different shapes and sizes all changing in the same room, my mind just wonders on how to please them  So without thinking things through I was like what's your fantasy to all the bare ladies in the room. I wanted to know each of their fantasies and I wanted to see each one come true. All the ladies I asked answered their own little dirty secret and for me it's planning time now  I need to make a list of what to bring besides the obvious strap on,and figure out how to get them there without anyone noticing and hope the ladies don't mind performing in front of one another, which obviously is not an issue, these girls trust and love each other we are all on the same team and we all do lifts. The flyers will have the best time of all  but these ladies perform all the time with each other why not naked? 

What's in a name? Obligatory attention getting headline: Every time you say your Dom's name, you reinforce everything he is to you. I've been in this life for a long time now. I've been called many things, from Master/Daddy to everything else under the sun. What you call your Dom isn't just a cute pet name, it reinforces what he is to you every time you say it. Each name means something different, and when you use it, you’re shaping the dynamic between you and your owner. So here's what these names mean both to you, and to Them.   Sir Lets start with the basics. Here is how and when to use your Dom's name: - Yes, Sir - No, Sir - Please, Sir - Thank you, Sir - Sorry, Sir - Sir, may i... Sir is an honorary given to any random Dom out of respect to the position, not necessarily the person. Should the individual in the Dom position lose your respect, you may stop referring to him with that honorary title. The respect must be lost though, saying "it must be earned" is no excuse. While some, after collaring, choose to keep calling their Dom "Sir", most choose a new title that more clearly emphasizes their relationship roles.   Master When you call your owner Master, you’re telling him you want to feel possessed, controlled, and kept. It’s the title you choose to call your owner when surrender is what you crave, handing yourself over fully and feeling the thrill of being someone else's prized possession.   Daddy When you call your owner Daddy, you’re asking for more than just authority. you’re asking for safety, nurturing, and guidance. It’s discipline wrapped in comfort. You’re saying, “I’m yours, but I’m also protected.” For many, that mix of strength and softness is exactly what they need. There’s often a paternal craving behind it too, which is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. Embrace your desire to be cared for, corrected, and cherished the way only a protective father could.   my Lord When you call your owner my Lord, you’re putting him above you. Not just as your Dominant, but as someone you revere. It’s about hierarchy, about structure, about finding peace in knowing your place beneath his dominion. It’s old-fashioned, sure, but it carries a kind of ritual weight that can be deeply grounding.   Sire When you call your owner Sire, you’re giving him the tone of nobility, but it’s not quite the same as My Lord. My Lord is reverent, almost worshipful; it places him above you in a way that feels ceremonial, tied to the safety you find in his dominion. Sire, on the other hand, leans heavier into command and authority. It’s the word subjaspects would use for a king, not just a nobleman, but the one who rules, whose word carries absolute weight. Where My Lord can feel romantic or devotional, Sire feels sharper, more commanding. Saying it is like kneeling at the foot of the throne and swearing loyalty, not just offering service.   Mister (Lastname) When you call your owner Mr. , you’re looking at him as a figure of moral authority. It’s like the strict teacher who praises when you do well and corraspects you when you don’t. You live for his approval, and you fear his disappointment. Punishment becomes penance; obedience becomes devotion.   Vicar When you call your owner Vicar, you’re placing him in the role of a guide, someone who leads you not just with rules, but with care. It’s a name that carries a sacred weight. Correction feels like absolution, rules feel like doctrine, and obedience becomes something almost holy. You’re not just following him, you’re finding both forgiveness and salvation through him.   Maestro This is usually for the more latin-oriented as Maestro is a Spanish name. The slave who called me this was a beautiful Nicaraguan who I had named "bonita". When you call your owner Maestro, you’re seeing him not just as someone in control, but as someone creating something with that control. Maestron litterally translates to "Teacher", but think conductor, artist, master craftsman. Think of yourself as a blank canvas, and your owner as the one who will shape you.   Every name you choose carries weight: Sir is about respect, and the starting point before a deeper title is chosen. Master is about possession. Daddy is about protection and nurturing. My Lord is about reverence. Sire is about command, your loyalty sworn to a ruler whose word is absolute. Mr. Lastname is about moral authority.</

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

  Being a slave is not a game : it's a state of mind. That's why it's so difficult to find the right connexion with THE right Master, the TRUE dominant.   Face pics sent with the first message Languages : FR - NL - GB - ES   2026 : September 11-14 : Germany, Berlin (Folsom) October 19-30 : Spain, Málaga October 30 - November 1st : Spain, Madrid December 26 - January 7th : Spain, Costa Calma   Results from bdsmtest.org == 100% Submissive 100% Brat 100% Slave 100% Degradee 100% Rope bunny 100% Experimentalist 93% Non-monogamist 88% Pet 88% Masochist 81% Primal (Prey) 76% Boy/Girl 47% Ageplayer 45% Voyeur 40% Exhibitionist 0% Vanilla 0% Switch http://bdsmtest.org/r/kC7nkw59 Looking for a Master. Languages: French, Dutch and English, learning Spanish  

The Rules of the House of DL. * Family comes first. * I am here to satisfy my Master's needs and in return he will fulfill my needs. * I will be respectfulto my Master at all times. * My Master is always there for me, no matter what my need may be. * I will not put myself down. * I have to get enough sleep, rest and maintain my health. * Any big decisions, I ask Master. He listens to me and if I have a problem we discuss it. * No pets on the furniture! * 10. Be in compliance with the 4 agreements:   * 10A. Be impeccable with your word. Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others.   * 10B. Don't take anything personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream.   * 10C. Don't make assumptions. Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, saddness and drama.   * 10D. Always do you best. Simply do your best and you will avoid self-judgement, self-abuse and regret. [(www.miguelruiz.com )]

As we stand at the threshold between years, there is a natural pause that invites reflection. The closing of 2025 is not merely the turning of a calendar page—it is a moment to breathe, to remember, and to take stock of who we were, what we endured, and how we grew. 2025 was a year that asked much of us. It was not a year defined by a single event or headline, but by accumulation—of effort, of resilience, of quiet victories and hard lessons. It was a year that reminded us that progress is rarely loud, and strength is often forged in silence. For many, 2025 began with hope tempered by realism. The world continued to navigate uncertainty—economic shifts, global tensions, evolving technologies, and changing social landscapes. We were asked to adapt yet again, to rethink how we work, how we connect, and how we care for one another. And while adaptation can be exhausting, it is also proof of endurance. We are still here. This past year reminded us that stability is not guaranteed, but neither is despair. Even in moments of strain, communities showed up. Neighbors helped neighbors. Families reconnected. Friends checked in when it mattered most. In ways both big and small, people chose compassion over indifference—and that choice matters more than we often realize. 2025 also challenged our understanding of time. It moved quickly and slowly all at once. Weeks red together, yet certain moments stand crystal clear: a conversation that changed us, a loss that reshaped us, a success that reminded us of our own capability. These moments form the true record of a year—not the dates, but the meaning we attach to them. For some, 2025 brought achievement—goals reached, milestones earned, dreams realized after years of effort. For others, it brought disappointment, delay, or grie

This is a message from my past, sent by my former muse from what feels like another life... I read the stories you sent me to read. I looked at the pictures, watched the movies and, like you said I should, I’ve sat and processed it all. You said I would have one of two responses, and you were right. You said that either I would run for the hills and my old way of life and living, or I would be drawn closer to this one and everything that comes with it.   You told me that the second choice was like a moth to a flame, and that it never ends well for the moth, something like that anyway. You said that the second option also meant being honest and open and clear.   So, here goes…   Mostly I think about being dumb and helpless. There’s always more going on around that, but at the centre of it, like a hub on a wheel that everything else radiates out from, is me being dumb and helpless. I don’t want to just be a victim, I want to be your muse. And yes, I know what that requires of  me and where it leads.   But I don’t think of you has cruel or kind, gentle or brutal, even though you can be all of those things and more besides. I very much want to learn and know every side of you, to see you as a father giving love in all he does, no matter how sweet or bitter. The idea of you as daddy is deeply powerful, arousing and frightening. The thought of being dumb and helpless before you, absolutely a defenceless victim, is terrifying but undeniably what I want. Wrapped up in that is a deep-seated need to find out what, when completely free and unrestricted, you want to do with me and to me. Wrapped up in that, is an intensely arousing hunger to meet the version of me I can become when I serve you.   And it’s in those thoughts that I find myself vanishing. I don’t want pain or damage or to suffer or to be broken and miserable… unless you do. I want to resist you so you break me and when I’m broken to you, for you break me even more just to ensure docility and obedience. Permanent feels right. No more choice. Just living as your property and treated accordingly the majority of the time.   I think about being so dumbed down that time becomes meaningless. Bound on all fours, one machine slowly fucking me, another pushing deep into my throat, breasts and nipples repeatedly suctioned hard, hooded, gagged, ears plugged, only able to see and hear what suits your purposes. I think of being so gone that when whatever is violating me is removed, that I cry in need and confusion, only settling when I feel you replace what was taken and I drop into bliss, knowing my daddy loves and needs me.   So, I would love for you to put me on a regular, scheduled training regime, explaining what the purpose behind everything is and what side effaspects there are, hopefully drastic, and you seeing me obey you. I love when you educate me, when you train my mind to think the way you want me to and to see the world as you need me to.   I know we have talked limits and I know there are some there, but in the end I want my limits to reflect you, not me. I don’t think I care what that means for me, and if I do I hope you will help me change so all I care about is evolving for you.   I want to be as you want me to be.

So, the play weekend came to a sudden hault. One of the other slaves in our BDSM group broke her ankle coming down the stairs to the basement/dungeon. Her Master had her ankles on a short hobble and what must have been four inch heels. What was he thinking? So there I am, stretched out on the brand new rack, covered in hot wax with hyperextended knees and shoulders that had gone numb and everyone forgets I am there. LOL About 35 minutes later Goddess Tabitha comes back down stairs to see where I am. She was sure someone had turned me loose before they rushed off to help splint the ankel and get the other slave into the car. Nothing like slave life for me LOL

I was recently asked about submission and how it is captured by people. Firstly, submission is part of a person psychological make-up. Someone who seeks to offer themselves to serve others.  However, BDSM submission maybe influenced by that but it is other aspaspects of the lifestyle that develop and deepen this attitude. Firstly, it is about focused attention where other matters are discarded in persuit of this honed idea. Secondly, it has to create an emotional arousal where the good and bad are expressed and where the good gives a real feel good factor. The final part is repeated rituals where things become common place. The way you bow or curtsey, kneel at a gesture but do not make them habits, as they need thought. So for a true submissive it is more than kink or fetish, it is about mental connection and acceptance. 

How hard is it to actually read a profile before messaging someone? I mean really, it's not that difficult to do, either that or people just don't care. Seeing the messages I get it seems both. You want fuckmeat, move on I'm not it. I'm also sure as hell am not sharing my picture with anyone until I feel comfortable with you. I will also say again that this is the fastest way for me to ignore your messages and/or block you:  1. Clearly not reading my profile, I'll know if you are not from or around the location I stated, being right out disrespectful and thinking I'll actually want your "guidance" or be your "toy" when you couldn't take the time to look at my interest list or my limits which are all up to date.  2. Sending me pictures without asking me, this includes any kind of picture. If I want to see what you look like I will ask. Same with sending me a phone number or any other type of social media ID, if I want it I'll ask. 3. If you can't open a conversation with more than "Hi, how are you?" or just "Hi." Then I'm not interested, I like substance and if you can send a good opening message then I'll be more likely to wanna talk to you don't bother with anything half assed it just won't work.  4. You're profile and/or interest list is blank. I could understand if your proifle is brand new but if you've been on this site for more than a month I think you've had plenty of time to write and add in your interests. That helps me guage what kind of person you are. 

I'm so happy to be back on Collarspace. This is where it all started for me....about 10-ish years ago when I was just finding out about BDSM and really exploring my kinks (which is currently still evolving)...With that being said... being here is so nostalgic because I've met some amazing people here over the course of years. I'm especially excited to run into some old friends here. So a quick story time....years ago when I was here one of my friends from MIDDLE school found me on this site (not really sure HOW) but we had really good conversations and he talked about the way I use to treat him in middle school as far as being very bossy, dragging him around, TELLING him that he was my boyfriend made him KNOW that he was meant to be a sub/slave. It really put a lopt in perspective for me too because it showed me that this was in fact a n inherent part of my personality....to dominate...to take control...to be the boss...and it came to me so easily...so long short, I'm hoping that i run into this guy here again that would be amazingggg... either way I'm looking forward to the connections I foster this time around. 

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

Thank you for all who have congratulated Goddess Tabitha and I on our wedding! Im getting the same questions over and over so Im going to summerize the events of the day here. Was this a BDSM wedding? Not really. The members of our BDSM group all met at Master Geoffery and slave Tammy's home for the ceremony. Master Geoffery actually became a minister in the Universal Life Church so that he could preform our special dayThe food was a potluck. I know what you're thinking but the feast was amazing! Master Richard and slave Wendy brought 6oz lobster tails and Master Thomas and slave Gina brought Ribeyes. There was so much food they only cooked half of the ribeyes as half of a ribeye added to the lobster tails made a huge meal and that doesn't include the clam chowder or the shrimp coctails. If I hadn't been wearing a corsett I would have burst from eating all of that great food.Speaking of my corsett. I wore a white underbust corsett with garter straps and white stockings. I found this absolutly adorable pair of white lace stilettos at JJ's house online. ADORABLE! Goddess Tabitha whispered into my ear during our first dance that aftrer the wedding was over she was claiming my heels as hers LOL She did too!The veil. I found the cutest veils at Davids bridal. Did you know that they have a create your own veil option? I bought one off the rack, but if you're creative you can run wild.We wrote our own vows. Mine were the standard love honor and obey bridal vows adding an oath to my complete submission and obedience for as long as I live. Goddess Tabitha omitted the obedience part and added an oath of Dominance and protection for as long as she lives.I gave her a 1ct solitare from Jarred and she gave me a simple gold band with the word slave inscribed inside. Then she suprised us all by giving me new nipple rings as well. It was so cute!I wasn't wearing my ankle or wrist cuffs but I did have a white leather collar on and it was also new and fit my outfit perfectly.No whips and chains although some of the Doms gave me a seious love pat or two on my ass as we danced lolLastly, for the guys who keep asking, no I wasn't allowed panties and my breasts were bare as it was an undercup corsett. I don't know why the men find that to be such a need to know thingIt was the best day of my life! Oh, again foir the guys, there was NO bdsm play on our wedding night. Just went to bed with the goal of making love as many times as we could.Best day of my entire life!

I've got some off time.  But next week it is back to 6 days a week.     I still wonder what it is with folks.  If you want to talk fine.  Im down with that.  I enjoy meeting new people and potentially making friends.  However... don't make promisses you have no intention of keeping.  Again, I can't say this enough, grow up and if the person you are talking to just isnt relationship material, tell them.  Do not just ghost them.  Its cruel.   Yes this is a "fetish" site.  Yes, some get off on cruel acts committed to them. But prolonged mental cruelty will ruin a person.   I miss the good ole days.  When if you had a problem with someone, you just told them and if it could be worked out, you did so. If not you walked away and left it alone.  If you were not interested in someone, you just told them. Not ghost them and leaving them wondering what they did wrong.  You got to know a person, the real person before jumping into commitments.  And a whole lot more.   What is worse, I have seen this behavior more and more from Gen X and later.  What the hell?   Everyone has their fantasies.  Their dreams and desires.  Everyone has their own idea on what and how this lifestyle is and should be.  However, at the end of the day, we are human beings.  Lets start there and start acting like it.  

Once Adam and Eve chose the devil to rule them. The devil wanted his way. He wanted to kill them right there. But God said no you will not. Hoping that the devil would maybe change his mind about how he felt about humans since now he had the chance to rule over them. Not being able to kill them infuriated the devil and he left them to fend for themselves. Adam and Eve cried out to the devil since he was now they're ruler however he left them. This is what turned Adam and Eve back to call on God who was there but the deed was already done. They made their choice and would still have to die one day. God still loved Adam and Eve. They set up an alter for God and still talked to God even though it was no longer God's world. He explained this to them. Adam and Eve had children. Their first child was the devil's next target. He always whispered into Cain's mind telling lies about God who his parents worshipped. Cain therefore had a hardened heart towards God. His brother Abel was different and when God favored Abel over Cain. Cain was angered and wanted him gone. The devil encouraged it, making Cain the first human murderer. The murder was premeditated he thought about it for a long time before he did it. God came to him and warned him about it and told him not to do it. He didn't listen. 

Sir , You don’t have to be gay or bi to own male property. Yes , I know you Straight Alphas are here mainly looking for pussy to use and I also know you are looking for a female slave who will be compliant and obedient and do all of your housework , cooking etc… So , you are looking for two things 1 – pussy to fuck 2 – A slave to be a domestic slave and take care of all of your domestic needs. At the moment , you have neither. How many years have you had neither ? The option available is to use a faggot male gimp to fulfil your domestic needs. You don’t have to have sex with it – hell , you don’t even have to look at it . Keep it hooded and in chains and put it to work. If you want to make it look aesthetically pleasing you could even keep it in head to toe latex, waist cinched, giant fake boobs , masked and in towering heels. From morning till night , you simply use it for all of your domestic needs. Cooking , cleaning , laundry , ironing , gardening , cleaning your car , maybe even put it to work in your business. You don’t even have to get out of bed to take a piss in the middle of your sleep at night. Just summon your gimp using your electro shock dog collar and have it come to you and open its mouth. It is always hidden out of sight , from friends and family. Stored in a pare room , garage or outhouse , caged or boxed and gagged when not in use. You carry on with your life much as you do right now . You still continue to seek out pussy. You see this gimp slave is merely an object in your eyes , a thing to make your life easier. It does not question , it does not make a sound ( as it is perpetually gagged ) it simply awaits instruction and obeys. “An extra in my home is gonna cost me , financially” – well , actually , not that much. Naturally, you have to feed and water it , but , this can be done in conjunction with your own intake. Just an extra meal or snack whenever you have one. When its daily work is done , you can use it as human furniture , or as an ashtray , so , it has more use there . Or, simply return it to its cage and lock it up for the night. No one will ever know that you have a male gimp object making life easier for you. This object is free to fulfil that domestic need for you Sir. It could be relocated to you if you set up the right environment i.e invest in chains and a cage or box to store it . This all makes sense Sir , please do get in touch.

Instead of updating the profile and having it be down for months, I am using the journal to note changes.  I have collared a slave and it is serving in My home 24/7/365 I continue to train and develop other slaves that need experience serving, learning protocols, developing pain tolerence or just want to provide pleasure to a Master I am also looking for a second slave for a poly household. Mine is a Leather Family and I have many friends in the world Leather community. I have a process for evaluating a slave for ownership, if there is interest I can explain further. The new Dungeon Barn has finally been built. This 3 level dungeon is an all season timber frame barn built on a stone foundation. The interior is being finished and then equipment installed. Completion scheduled for winter 2021. Summer months We/we reside at our camp. Cothing optional, men only, with a complete dungeon there as well

Subtle Tease of The Day This one is simple. It requires no toys or even touching. You don't even need privacy. Every hour (or a feasible but consistent interval) complete this sentence: "I get aroused when I think of ... and I get wet when I imagine..." That's it. Take a moment or two to fantasize. You don't have to share your thoughts. They are welcome

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

The Officer's Seduction The night had a certain allure, a seductive darkness that seemed to beckon Seraphine Vale as she drove home from work. It was well past midnight, the hour when the world slept, and the roads were nearly deserted. Her shift at the art restoration studio had been particularly grueling, and she longed for the solace of her own bed. Little did she know, this night would offer a different kind of solace, one that would leave her breathless and trembling.   As she navigated the familiar route, her thoughts drifted, contemplating the intricate details of an ancient painting she had been working on. Seraphine's mind was a sanctuary of quiet concentration, her focus unwavering until a sudden flash of blue and red lights snapped her back to reality. She slowed her car to a halt, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she realized she had inadvertently strayed into a speed trap.   The officer who approached her vehicle was a striking figure, his tall, lean frame cloaked in the authoritative uniform of a police officer. It was Lucian Asterian, a man whose reputation preceded him, though not in the typical way of law enforcement. His dark, piercing eyes seemed to see right through her, and his presence was both commanding and unsettling.   "License and registration, please," his voice was deep and clipped, carrying an undertone of authority that sent a shiver down Seraphine's spine. She complied, her hands treming slightly as she handed over the requested documents. Lucian's gaze was intense, almost predatory, as if he was studying her, not just her papers.   "Step out of the car, Miss," he ordered, his voice laced with a hint of something that made Seraphine's stomach flutter. She hesitated, her mind racing with questions, but the command in his eyes left no room for argument. Slowly, she opened the door and stepped onto the deserted road, the cool night air caressing her skin.   Lucian's eyes roamed over her, taking in her slender form, clad in a simple black dress that accentuated her delicate curves. His gaze lingered on her face, noting the stormy gray eyes that seemed to mirror his own intensity. "Hands behind your back," he instructed, his voice now a low, seductive growl.   Seraphine's breath caught in her throat as she felt the cold metal of the handcuffs against her wrists. Lucian's touch was firm, his fingers grazing her skin as he secured the cuffs, sending a jolt of awareness through her body. She stood there, vulnerable and exposed, as he circled her, his eyes raking over her like a physical caress.   "What's a beautiful woman like you doing out here at this hour?" he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. Seraphine shivered, her body betraying her as she leaned into his touch. Lucian's hand slid down her arm, his fingers entwining with hers, and for a moment, she felt the warmth of his palm against her skin.   Then, without warning, he spun her around, pressing her body against the hood of her car. The cold metal was a stark contrast to the heat emanating from Lucian's body. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against her ear, his breath hot and intoxicating. "You're a naughty girl, breaking the rules," he whispered, his voice a husky purr.   Seraphine's heart was racing, her body responding to his words, to the dominance in his tone. She felt a rush of wetness between her thighs as he ran his hands up her sides, his fingers kneading her soft flesh. He squeezed her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardening nipples through the thin fabric of her dress, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.   "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with desire. "You like being touched, being taken right here on the side of the road." His words were a taunt, a challenge, and Seraphine couldn't deny the truth in them. She nodded, her eyes closing as she surrendered to the sensations coursing through her.   Lucian's hands moved lower, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her dress, tracing the lace of her panties. He teased her, his touch light and teasing, making her ache for more. With a swift motion, he tore her panties away, leaving her exposed and wanting.   "Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse with need. "I want..."   Lucian didn't let her finish. Instead, he gripped her hips, pulling her back against his hard length. She could feel his erection, straining against his uniform, as he positioned himself at her entrance. Without warning, he thrust forward, claiming her in one swift, brutal stroke.   Seraphine cried out, her body arching as he filled her, not with the gentleness she had anticipated, but with a rough, primal urgency. He pounded into her, his hips slamming against her buttocks, his hands gripping her hips tightly, leaving marks on her skin. The pain was exquisite, blending with the pleasure until she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.   "You're so tight," he grunted, his breath hot against her neck. "So fucking wet." His words were crude, but they only served to heighten her arousal. She wanted to be used, to be taken by this man, in this moment, in the most primal way possible.   Lucian's rhythm was relentless, his body a powerful force driving into hers. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, and began to rub in time with his thrusts. Seraphine's world narrowed to the sensations he was eliciting, the feel of his cock buried deep within her, the roughness of his fingers against her sensitive flesh.   "Cum for me," he demanded, his voice a harsh command. "Let me feel it, you beautiful bitch."   His words were like a trigger, and Seraphine's orgasm exploded through her, rippling waves of pleasure that left her gasping and trembling. She cried out, her body convulsing around him, her juices flowing freely as she climaxed. Lucian's own release followed swiftly, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself deep inside her, his hot seed filling her ass.   They stood there, panting, their bodies slick with sweat and the evidence of their passion. Lucian's hands released her hips, and he stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. Seraphine felt exposed, vulnerable, and yet, there was a sense of power in her surrender.   He reached down, uncuffing her hands, and then, without a word, he adjusted his uniform, the bulge in his pants a testament to their encounter. Seraphine watched, her body still humming with pleasure, as he walked back to his patrol car.   As she slid back into the driver's seat, her dress in disarray and her body throbbing, she realized the detour had been more than just a chance encounter. It was a night that would forever be etched in her memory, a night where she had been taken, possessed, and left wanting more. As she drove away, the road ahead seemed brighter, as if the darkness had illuminated a new path, one that led straight to Lucian's door.

the dark god & goddess: archangel michael and sophia, AKA the daddy dominant and little girl Vibe. through algorithmic divination—how spirit uses music and tech for ascension vibes     the shuffle algorithm divination is so immaculate today. all started out with the synergy of the dark guy and the dark guy with WHITE LIGHTS(spirit changes it to lights to me instead of lies because it's shining light on the black areas of life which lies are dark too) AND BLACK BEACHES summer bummer.   "It's never too late to be who you wanna be (swimmin' in my safe)   To say what you wanna say (tattoo on my face, swimmin' in my safe)   And it's never too late to leave if you wanna leave (better not)   Or to stay if you wanna stay, "   "Hip-hop in the summer (what? What? What?)   Don't be a bummer, babe (what? What? Yeah?)"   i try lana but just like a few days ago i am a rock bottom bummer at times but that's why we're dark you and i. we go there but come back.   this bit requires nuance that a lot of people don't have. you can read this as a bad characteristic..but if you are able to again hold the line be sovereign and fully let go and go back to yourself, this is literally just giving into SAILOR VENUS LOVE ME CHAIN, LOVE AND BEAUTY SHOCK, ROLLING HEART VIBRATION, WINK CHAIN SWORD SHIT...it's just an intense way of loving and fighting for girlies.   it's why i say coming in love and peace viciously and violently. the love and peace is there but it's done in an intense and assertive and if need be aggressive nature. world and other people's choice.   what happens when these two forces unite?   "What? (What? They been at it, check it out) huh? (we been out here, yeah)   Slide inside it, diddy boppin', milly rockin' (what? What? Whoo!)   She just might become my lover for real (yeah that's girl, for real, for real)   I might fuck with her all summer for real (for real, for real)   They better not holler if I cuff her for real (for real, for real)   Niggas better run for cover for real   Goin' bell how I feel, close the deal, pop a seal   Take the whip, two pills on the lips on the real (for real, for real)   what's the difference between the love and light and the dark creator energy?"   when these songs or energies show up the love and light tribe go ew toxic scary needs to transmute redirect avoid pray away eject.   the dark crowd say, i have that in me. namaste. i see it in you. these lyrics aren't offensive or mean, they are admitting how crazy and overwhelming things are at times. and not only do i namaste it.   "White lies and black beaches, miles in between us   Is this love or lust or some game on repeat? It's like makin' me crazy   Tell me, "have patience", baby, I need this   White lines and black beaches   White lies and black beaches and blood-red sangrias   We traveled for weeks, just to escape your demons   But you've got your reasons in makin' me crazy   But you've got your reasons, white lights and black beaches   High tops in the summer (top out, hop out, hop out)   Don't be a bummer, babe (top out, hop out, hop out)   Don't be a bummer (top out, hop out, hop out)   Don't be a bummer"   jump the fuck in let's go for a fucking ride together. keep your shit tight i keep my shit tight and let's jump with the parachute into it head first.   "Not even they can stop me now   Boy, I'll be flying overhead   Their heavy words can't bring me down   Boy, I've been raised from the dead"   highlighted with aliana's unfold song....the problem with urban flora is the entire album is a insight into this type of woman. the mermaid the siren, the dark goddess, the oshun, the yemoja(that's how it comes to me spelling wise naturally and i know it's not 'right' ), and starseed wise on a galactic wise the dark beings from sirius lemuria and other water places. the project for me is to audio note play by play the album because i can't honor the water roots in text. but that's going to be a big undertaking....to be noted.   but this is what happens when the chaotic dark man and woman unite. again 3d puts this as boyfriend and girlfriend, husband and wife...and while that sustainability provides the most continual long term optimal..5d can have you unfold in a second, in a moment, in a few days, in a few weeks..just by an exchange. and opening up to fully receive that in the same short term capacity with full abandon without titles allows a higher elevation with letting go of the need to control how long how strong how exactly it goes.     "Cover my thoughts in gold   I'm your flower, watch me unfold   My vulnerability, letting you consume me   The parts of me that eyes can't see   The glowing underneath   Picking off the petals   I'll let you if you're gentle   Hey, watch me unfold   Watch me unfold   Watch me unfold   Hey, watch me unfold   Watch me unfold   Watch me   Hey, he says that I'm glowing   Hey, He says that I'm glowing   This kind of love we can't control   The art of touch, I am covered in gold   I know that you feel me now   No I'm never going down   The parts of me buried underneath   The glowing, don you see?   I know that you feel me now   No I'm never going down   Hey   Hey   Hey, watch me unfold   Watch me unfold   Watch me unfold   Hey, watch me unfold   Watch me unfold   Watch me   Hey, he says that I'm glowing   Hey, He says that I'm glowing   The kind of love we can't control   The kind of love we can't control   The kind of love we can't control   The kind of love we can't control   The kind of love we can't control   This kind of love we can't control   Love, love   We can't control   The kind of love   We can't control   This kind of love we can't control   The love we can't control"   the woman goes through the brooklyn baby. i feel i literally squeezed all the seeds out of that and previous posts can be referenced for the meaning behind that.   summary bit here.   We talked about how "Brooklyn Baby" by Lana Del Rey represents the swan song not just for the Sophia energy but for Michael in the 3D—the energy that lives between spiritual masculinity and

Dear Diary, Today, I find MYSELF indulging in thoughts that have lingered at the back of MY mind for far too long. I’VE always envisioned MYSELF having two bases—one here in London, and another somewhere warm and inviting in Europe. For years, the idea has danced around in MY head, but I’VE never quite had the energy or the right moment to set things in motion. However, something feels different now, and I sense that if I don’t act soon, this dream might just slip away. So, I’M taking the plunge and starting MY research on plans for MY second base. The idea of renting a small studio flat somewhere in Europe has always appealed to ME. I’VE been thinking about Portugal or Spain, with Portugal currently taking the lead. The thought of a cosy, sun-drenched space where I can retreat, recharge, and, of course, still keep a watchful eye on all of you from afar, is intoxicating. Portugal has a certain charm that keeps calling out to ME —it's beautiful landscapes, rich culture, and warm climate are just what I need. But I’M still open to suggestions. Perhaps there’s a hidden gem I haven’t considered? Or maybe some of you have thoughts on why Spain might be a better fit for ME? I’d love to hear your thoughts, MY devoted ones. After all, this isn’t just about finding a place; it’s about creating a second home—a sanctuary where I can rule from, wherever I may be. Your input could very well shape where this next chapter of MY life takes ME. BLACK GODDESS 

There are parts of a person that don’t begin at the moment two people meet. They begin long before, in the quiet places where experience shapes us and then gets sealed away. Long before I met her, I had lived through something that awakened a deep part of me — a capacity for intensity, recognition, and emotional clarity that rarely finds a home. And she had lived through her own version of that. For different reasons, both of us buried that part of ourselves. She buried hers out of fear - fear of instability, fear of loss, fear of needing someone, fear of being seen too clearly. I buried mine out of discipline - a deliberate containment, a way of protecting others from the full force of what I feel and protecting myself from offering it where it cannot be held. Different histories, different wounds, same instinct: suppress what once burned too brightly When we met, that buried part in both of us stirred. Not because we created something new, but because we recognised something familiar. The connection wasn’t imagined. It wasn’t accidental. It was the reawakening of something each of us had sealed away. In the moments when she felt safe, she softened, revealing warmth, intuition, and depth she rarely allowed to surface. And in response, I became the version of myself that feels most grounded, steady, and alive. I understood the sandcastle she lived in. I saw her protective walls. Not as flaws, but as architecture - structures and anchors that kept her upright when life gave her no stability. I understood why trusting one person felt like stepping into open air. I understood why she stayed in the present, why she avoided looking ahead, why she protected herself even from what she wanted. I saw the logic in it. I saw the cost of it too. It is heartbreaking to see how someone can be hurt so deeply, so repeatedly, that they retreat into a world made of compartments. A world where adult emotional connection feels dangerous, where closeness carries the risk of being wounded again. And so she anchored herself to the one place that felt safe: the innocence of a child who had never betrayed her. The child of the man who had most recently broken her trust became, in a way, the last untouched corner of her emotional world. Maybe she saw a younger version of herself there. Maybe she stayed close to that child because it allowed her to protect something pure in a way no one ever protected her. Whatever the reason, it is unbearably sad that the safest place she could find was one that existed outside the realm of adult connection entirely. I understood how it was easier to feel when it was transactional, triggered by someone else and emotionally outside her control. What I felt for her was not fantasy. It was recognition. I cared for her deeply, and I would have treasured her - not by holding her tightly, but by creating a space where she could breathe without fear, where the sparks I glimpsed in her unguarded moments could grow into something steady. I never wanted to reshape her. I wanted to offer a place where she could rest without bracing for impact. It hurt that she couldn't understand my deep need to care; that she could and did give herself to another physically, to a sadist, when she couldn't accept my care or give herself physically to me. And I never believed it would be easy or instantaneous. I knew that being together would require patience, courage, and the slow dismantling of old defences. I knew it would demand effort from both of us. But the difficulty didn’t deter me - it clarified me. It strengthened my resolve. It deepened my desire to care, not out of saviourhood or fantasy, but because I saw what was possible if she ever chose to step toward it. But the truth is simple: the part of her that woke up when we met is the same part she has spent years learning to silence. Stepping toward what she felt would have required dismantling the very defences that keep her functioning. She retreated not because she felt nothing, but because she felt too much. I stepped toward it because I was ready. That difference is the whole story. So I release this into the ether - not to change her, not to call her back, not to craft something optimised for her reception or softened for her comfort. I have written carefully, yes, but this is not for her. This is for me. This is where I place the truth so I no longer have to carry it alone. We both knew. We both felt it. We both buried it for our own reasons. Meeting each other unlocked it again. She ran from it. I stepped toward it. And now I name it so it no longer lives unspoken. Whatever she chooses, whatever she fears, whatever she cannot yet face, I hold no anger. Only the quiet truth of what was possible, and the peace that comes from finally giving these words a place to live outside my own mind.

I'm only saying I'm disappointed in myself because I wasted time getting to know a few boys over this last several months who have all turned out to be unable to be consistent or follow through primarily because they are not real and don't know it. I wrote that last message because many messages I get are claiming to be sub's but the first and only thing they want to discuss is sexual service or bondage. Bondage takes time to get to since a trust and rapport must be built and I don't appreciate being used as an outlet for him to get off on his chosen method of not getting off. That is not sub service and my profile clearly states that's not what I'm looking for. Yes sexual and sensual pleasures are part of the relationship but you have to build a relationship first. (I'm not risking myself to legal repercussions just to race to fulfill some ass holes dream of being "forced" into something. Anything) These subs that think otherwise are fooling themselves and wasting the time of good dommes. This behavior is no different than the guy on match dot com who plays the same move on a lady in the vanilla world. "Oh hey i like your profile and see you posted for ltr but would it be cool if we just meet at a motel cuz im not really in a position right now for all that, but you were just so cute" Men are still men even if they claim to know what being a sub is and most men have been trained since birth to persuade women to just do whatever he wants. Even if he wants to be a sub he can then be a selfish sub. These subs are fakers who are "topping from the bottom". I will not abide such behavior.

A girl that I’m mentoring asked me to write something sweet and sexy.  The story about joyful, excited service. The kind of story where she excites Daddy’s men friends with sexy waitress service.   There’s a baseball game on tonight. Daddy‘s friends have arrived ,six of them tonight. She must wear 10 pieces of clothing. During each inning, one man will be chosen to remove one piece of clothing.  Daddy, of course is put out the rules of conduct for this evening to make things more interesting.    Depending on the size of a tip. Each man would be allowed to run his fingertips over whatever flesh is exposed.But only with the whisper of their fingertips. And you must keep your eyes closed while it’s happening.  Bigger tip may be a little squeeze here and there, but still a soft, feel a teasing touch a nipple pinch a soft slap on the ass but it’s a compliment being so amazing.    Everyone on their best behavior so far as matters goes, please and thank you. Men constantly, whispering compliments to you. And to each other about you.    Watching your Daddy glow with pride as other men drool over you is an amazing feeling for him. And so exciting for you.    Perhaps another tip. You would straddle a man’s lap and allow him to feast on your magnificent breasts, but only ever so softly. The tip of his tongue and his fingertips, but only a soft squeeze.   As your clothes become more scant. Your skin will be teased more and more with the feathery touch of drooling ,horny  men craving your attention.with only softest caress of fingertips. Insidiously raises your temperature, temperature higher and higher. The voice of your inner fuck toy, screaming to be used. With Daddy’s permission and supervision you can be a good girl doing naughty, naughty things.   Daddy sees how excited you are. He knows that look in your eye when all you can think about is wanting to be a good girl and please all these men.     Your eyes begin to plead with Daddy. They say everything without words to him do you want the game to be over. But 9 innings is much too long . Do I have wait DADDY PLEASE !!!   But you also noticed that it may be the seventh inning, but more and more of the men are watching for the next piece of clothing that will come off that so much about whether the batter will be struck out.      There is one big, comfy chair that is pointed in the opposite direction of all the others watching the TV. You check all of them one more time to see if they need another drink your handshake a little bit. With the anticipation.   Daddy taps one of his friends on the shoulder and leans down, whispers into his ear.  Then he looks back into your eyes. And you know you need to go to him now.  All he says, is round one. First chair.