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The Largest BDSM Community on the Planet

Update: I am no longer available for hands-on meetings. Online only. (Well, I may make rare ex
Male Dominant, 68,  Sikeston, Missouri












Last Online:


 Dominant Male



 6' 2"

 210 lbs






Update: I am no longer available for hands-on meetings. Online only. (Well, I may make rare exceptions, however unlikely. You'd have to be really special!)

You park your car in front of my house, on a quiet old street in a quiet small town. You walk up to my front door, which I open before you knock. You're right on time. You remain silent, as I've instructed. I have no need to speak yet. You can hear your heart pounding, wondering if I can hear it as well. As you step inside, I can see the pulse throbbing in your neck. I know. You are startled as I slam the door loudly behind you, and then you hear the distinct click of the lock. We're alone.

I place my hand in the small of your back and guide you to the master bedroom. The afternoon sun shines through the high windows onto my large bed, glinting off the heavy brass bedposts. You draw a deep nervous breath at the sight of the implements laid out there - an assortment of lashes, whips, floggers, straps, paddles. (There is a towel covering some other s. What might they be?) We've discussed limits. We know where this is leading.

"Strip, now." You don't hesitate. Is there already a slight glistening between your trembling legs? I'll have to deal with that, but not just yet. I draw a line down your naked spine with my fingernail, and you try to contain a spasm while uttering an unintelligible "mrmph." I lean into your ear. "Hush, now. Sounds are for later, with the screaming." I gesture toward the instruments on the sunlit bed. "Pick one, my pet, and we'll begin."

I'm lacking in hands-on experience, late to this long-dormant dominant side of myself, but it already feels comfortable, like an old leather belt. I seek intelligent, willing, creative, hungry minds. It's not necessary that you know yet what you're hoping to find in a relationship. We can take that journey together. (Perhaps this is a good time to point out that I am not monogamous, and I will not engage in a 24/7 life with another person.)

I do not seek a sub to break - I want to guide you in discovering your deeper self, from within and without. My methods will not be effective with some, and those in need of more severe methods will may find their True Dom elsewhere on CollarSpace. (I suspect that many of the subs I minister will eventually want more than I am willing to provide. I believe, however, that they will have been well-served, well-Dommed, and will more easily adapt when they leave for a harsher Master.)

I administer physical pain because that is what I want and it is what you either desire (as a masochist) or it is what you accept because of your craving/need to submit/serve/please. It creates, then strengthens the bond between us. I will never spank/beat/whip you to punish or discipline you. My primary method of punishment is to simply withhold my attentions. Your shame will be the disappointment you see in my eyes when you fail me - when you fail us. I will determine additional disciplinary actions based on those things you fear - not by the things you crave. (But if I find you require severe corrective actions often, we will part ways.)

If you want my attention, you're going to have to quickly prove you're an engaging communicator. In my domain it is the sub's responsibility to make first, respectful contact. (I hope that makes you nervous, but that you feel compelled to do so anyway. Yes, it's a test.) I welcome messages from all, but I won't respond to one-liners or boilerplate messages. (well, unless it's a really good line, or if you have a really intriguing profile). If you write a quick note to say you like my photo, my little story above, my even shorter journal stories, or to thank me for simply viewing your profile, consider this sentence as my thank you or you're welcome. Repeatedly sending short messages gets you blocked and reported as a spammer. And, no, I don't accept blind chat or friend requests. (Really?!) I'm seeing a few subs adding me to their favorites list without messaging me to explain why they've done so. DON'T DO THAT!!

One of the first messages I received when I signed up here was from a fellow Dom welcoming me to the dark side. I disagree. This is the kaleidoscope side.

I must add this note. This is NOT about sex for me. It is unlikely I will have you service my cock, as my sexual libido is nearly dead. But I will address your sexual needs/desires in ways you likely can't imagine.

A little still she strove, and much repented;
And whispering "I will ne'er consent" — consented.   —Byron

Journal Entries:
3/4/2018 8:34:01 PM
I see many Doms & subs say they value loyalty. I'm not so sure. How is loyalty tested? If your Dom or sub is disloyal, is loyalty broken? What does loyalty mean to you? Damn, I wish CS would add a feature to allow comments to journal entries!!

2/3/2018 4:54:26 PM

Respect is properly given, not earned! Contempt is earned!

Got your attention? Good. Now for the fine print, the reasoning behind such an audacious statement that counters the sentiment I have read way too often on these sites. It boils down to this: If I don't know anything else about you other than that you are a fellow human on our shared road through life, then that's enough for me to respect you. It's automatic (or it should be). If you stumble, stranger, I will try to catch you. If you fall, I will offer my hand. It's what people do (or should). And if I don't, then I'm an asshole as I have tossed my self-respect and your natural respect for me (as a stranger to a stranger) right out the window.

What is key in my argument is that I'm talking about the interactions of complete strangers. The instant I see your profile photo and screen name, I start to form opinions. My respect may rise or diminish slightly. When I further read your profile and journal entries my respect will almost certainly rise or diminish (perhaps diminish into contempt) further. When I read that first message you send, my respect may drop to zero or below, or it may soar. But please remember: Before we interacted, I respected you. If you didn't respect me before you knew me, then my respect for you is diminished. If you squander the respect I naturally have for you, you may be well on your way to earning my contempt.

1/26/2018 10:04:26 PM
I see SO many broken people here. I want to throw them a life raft, tell them that it might be all ok. But it may not be so. I may be salvation, but I also may be your ticket to hell.

12/12/2017 9:15:22 PM
I found this quote on another CS profile, and he found it on another profile. It resonates with him, and I find the vibe as well.

"Submission is not a gift; it is an obligation!"

6/29/2015 12:35:15 PM
My Dear M, such cooing! I love it. I don't exactly want to cause you worry, but I do so want to inspire a round of terror. I can imagine stripping you and chaining you spread-eagle, taut, immobilized, standing on your toes in the middle of a windowless room. I bring a small high table into your view and place it in front of you. I stand behind it, facing you - it separates us. Upon the table rests an ornate rectangular silver platter, covered in a small white linen cloth, obviously obscuring objects underneath. "My darling M,", I begin, "it is time for you to take the next step. It is time for me to drink you, to consume you." I lift the white cloth to reveal the assortment of blades - razors, knives, scissors, a scalpel. "These are designed to cleave, to open, to separate, to expose what lies beneath. You will not enjoy this, but I will, and that is all that counts." You are already trembling, and you piss yourself - not much, because we emptied your bladder less than 20 minutes earlier. Good thing I also gave you that enema and plugged you or you'd be shitting yourself as well. I nod at the spreading puddle on the floor and smile. "No, M, that is not what I will drink." I move to the other side of the table, to you. I see the fear in your eyes, and I smell it. A rare gift. You: "Please, Master, please no! I ..." Your voice forgets itself as I select the antique straight razor and slide it open with a grace and ease that surprises you. With the razor in my right hand, my left caresses your chest and neck. "Where to open you?" You: "Oh, Master, please! Please, no!" Your words crack, no spittle in your cotton mouth. But your eyes are beginning to well, pupils dilated, eyelids wide in terror. "M, my Darling, it is time." My left hand still sweeps slowly over you. The razor in my right rests comfortably in full view. Your eyes overflow, and tears begin sliding down your face. "Please, no, Master!" My left hand finds a spot on your upper ribcage. "This is it. Here." I activate the razor and shave the few peachfuzz hairs away. I apply some alcohol to the scraped area. "It's clean now, fresh for me." Your scream startles me. And it pleases me. You become a chained upright puddle. Bawling, sobbing, your tears flow, gush, torrent. I put the razor down on the silver platter and smile. I lap up the tears on your cheeks, suck them from your eyes. "The blades have done their job, and they are gone. Cry, my Darling, cry." Now you understand, and your sobbing intensifies, not of terror, but of love. I have taken you to a place we both desire. We are free, and we are one. As you continue sobbing your love, I continue sucking your tears, sating my thirst. In a few minutes, I will unchain you and put you to bed and put a blanket over you and lie next you with my arms enfolding you. You Are Mine.

I wrote this fiction more or less straight through in response to and inspired by a lovely note from mdaddie, my muse. Upon reflection, I think it raises a valid issue of consent. When M says "No", we know he is not consenting to the bloodletting he and you (incorrectly) presume is coming. But M doesn't say "Stop". So, fellow kinksters, was consent revoked? Personally, I say it was revoked, and as a Dom sadist, it would be wrong to continue after M said "No". But it's a story, a fiction. Comments?

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