Test whether I can add new journal entries.

Profile needs an update.

I typically travel between Missouri, Wisconsin, and Indiana where I either have property or family.  I am presently spending the summer in upstate New York, working on some projects for a family friend.

 Other than that you may wish to know that I am a competent handman and computer expert with a master degree in mechanical and aerospace engineering.  I can follow a recipe and enjoy providing domestic service and pampering.

40+ +5

50-59 years old +10

60+ years old +15

Big enough to push me around and overpower me.  I'm 5'10" and 180 lbs.  +10

Playfully cruel and sadistic.  +10

Into orgasm control +5

Into tease and denial +10

Key collector +15

Strict +5

Very strict, as in seeks to make it impossible for me not to fail and therefore deserve punishment.  +10

Into private humiliation, not life ruining exposure kind.  +10

Likes being domestically served +10

Likes being pampered +10

Male -1000

Looking at the holy trainer v5 and the qiui key pd.

I think it might be a perfect combination, if the holy trainer fits well.

The best experience I have had is with an older divorcee who, being a bit of a novice yet still very creative, had me over to spring clean her house. I still get goosebumps remembering the flush of humiliation brought on by the initial inspection and negotiation.
We met through craigslist which is a bit random. The ad offered little more than that she was dominant and needed someone to help clean her house. There was no discussion of what I should expect other than to bring knee pads and that she would provide the necessary cleaning supplies.

I almost turned around a couple of times on the way to her house as I was showing up sight unseen and had no idea what to expect. I arrived and pensively knocked on the door. She answered and invited me in with a smirk from ear to ear. She ushered me in sit down to some coffee and a get to know you session. It was like meeting someone for a blind date, she talked about how her and her ex husband would play femdom games at times but they had never really gone too far and I confessed that I had little experience but had answered her ad because I was ready to make the leap. As we eventually ran out of banter and likely because she sensed my state of nervousness, she simply stated that this is usually done in the nude while examining my reaction. My heart jumped as I stammered out an okay. She said "yes Maam" somewhat more sternly than her demeanor during our earlier conversation while standing and waving her hand in a signal to rise off the couch. As I stood I felt light headed and my face flushed like a little school boy having his first encounter with a girl, but this was an older woman taking command. She stepped up close facing me with a look somewhere between sympathy and a coy sadism in recognizing my discomfort and softly said, "you can leave now if you wish, or you can slowly remove your clothing folding each item and placing it in a neat pile upon this ottoman." I stood frozen for what seemed like an eternity with the world collapsed to a tunnel whose end was her whole face, which slowly grew more delighted. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt her hand slip under my tee to caress my tight stomach and with a Cheshire grin she said, "I think you should stay." Still trembling but somehow comforted by her playful nature I began to disrobe in front of the Domme I had just met. As I did so she circled around me with an examining eye and light little caresses and tweaks ensuring my embarrassment and vulnerability were maximally felt. Waves of excitement combined with nervousness flooded my system rising to a crescendo as I came down to my underwear. That's when I paused. I was more turgid than I had been since adolescence and there was no way to hide that, but somehow that thin little piece of material felt like the last piece of protection I had to maintain an illusion of dignity. With a raised eyebrow and a slightly cocked head suggesting oncoming disappointment she said, "take them off boy... show me what you've got." I was days away from my 30th birthday and certainly no longer considered myself a boy, yet having this woman call me that put me in a place that I had never been. Her command freed me of choice so I hooked my fingers in my waist band and inched my underwear over my now painful erection. After finally slipping the last vestage of clothing I had over my ankle and placing it on the stack of my other clothes I stood there with my member twitching uncontrollably. Unconsciously my hand drew forward to cover myself. She manuevered around me with her hands behind her back and a subtle little skip. When she was behind me and out of view I felt the sudden shock of my ass being stung with what I would soon find out was a ping pong paddle that she had managed to secretly produce while I was folding my underwear. After I came back down on my heels she cooed into my ear from behind, "you will not presume to cover yourself in my presence boy." I slid my hands to my sides back from my ringing ass where they instinctually lept to and with an awkward feeling of not quite knowing were to place them. "Okay," I said softly almost like a question. "Yes Maam," she said sternly as she stung my ass with the paddle again. A little louder I responded, "yes Maam." "That's better," she whisperd while simultaneously nipping at my ear and lightly swatting my behind. She swung around behind me to my other ear as if intentionally playing with my sense of disorientation and in a lower more sultry voice explained, "little servant boys must be fully nude." I said nothing in my confusion still wondering whether this required a "yes Maam" or not. She slipped her hand around my side and doen my stomach to comb her fingers through my pubic hair. "You have done a fine job of trimming but there is no fur allowed in my house." "Yes Maam," I said. "In the downstairs bathroom you will find that I have laid out all the implements necassary to remedy your little fur problem, boy." I uttered another little, "Yes Maam." Moving to my front and staring directly into my eyes she ran her finger like a feather up the sensitive underside of my still twitching shaft. "You are not to play with yourself while you defur yourself, boy, do you understand?" "Yes Maam, I understand." "Make sure you do because I will know," she replied. Then she pulled my turgid member down and let it slap back against my stomach just hard enough to make me jump, "now off you go, report back here when you are finished."

I wandered out from the living room and down a small flight of carpeted stairs that she had directed me to with my ass still slightly stinging. The restroom door was the only door open so it was not difficult to find. Still it felt strange that I would be left to my own devices in another person's home, but was somewhat relieved I could have some privacy for the task at hand. I suppose I had no practical way of hiding anything at that point anyway. Upon entering the restroom I found that a towel, hand towel, wash cloth, clippers, soap, shave lather, and razor had already been laid out for me. At that moment it dawned on me how much she had planned. I ran some bath water and set about making myself as smooth as I could, not wishing to displease Maam. I had to stop and start a few times due to the stimulation, but despite being nearly irresistible I managed to control the urge to play with myself. When I finished I toweled off and headed back to the living room with the cool air tickling my bouncing member.

When I arrived in the living room I noticed that Maam was shuffling through some things in the library adjacent. Glancing back to the ottoman where my clothes had once been I noticed they were nowhere to be seen. My wallet, my keys, all of my clothes, and the only thing remaining was the brand new pair of knee pads I bought from Home Depot for the purpose of the days events. Assuming this to be a signal I strapped them on dutifully. Just as I finished Maam approached with a small length of braided cord. Without saying a word she threaded one end of the chord through the top straps on each of the knee pads.