invisibility is my superpower

It was Daddy’s best friend’s wedding, and I was supposed to be on my best behavior. He had picked out a gorgeous dress for me, and white, lacy underthings that made me feel beautiful and desirable.

He danced with me, he walked me around the room, showing me off to the  reunion that the wedding had inevitably become.

It’s funny how 10 years could pass, but when a certain group of people comes back together it feels like no time, and behavior patterns reemerge.

The alcohol had been flowing for hours, but Daddy had forbidden more than 1 glass of champagne. He wanted me sharp, he said. He had plans, he said, in a tone dripping with promise.

I had been a good girl and occupied myself with the wives of his friends. They were nice enough, just not interesting enough to be a distraction from the constant ache radiating out from between my thighs. I wanted to rub them together, but that was against the rules set for this particular event. Rule #1, to be exact.

Rule #1: No relief. No orgasm. No rubbing my thighs together, no touching myself, no relief from the tension coiled within my cunt. Sir was very adamant about that, sadistic control freak that he was. 

Rule #2: No panties. The underthings he bought me, the garters, the stockings, the beautiful dress, there were no matching panties this time. He wanted to know I was bare and craving him within a room full of his people.

Rule #3: Only 1 glass of champagne every 2 hours. 2 glasses of water for each glass of champagne. He wanted me to enjoy my buzz, but stay hydrated. I’m such a lightweight that it was plenty.

Rule #4: Only acknowledge him as Sir or Daddy, and nothing else. How and when I said it was up to me, but that was his name and that was what I was to call him.

Rule #5: The only thing that superseded Rule #1. If he told me to touch myself, fuck myself, taste myself, love myself, I had to. No questions asked, within 5 minutes of the request. On my own honor, I had to stop before cumming and rejoin the main room within 2 minutes of the edge. He would be watching. 

Rule #6: He was to be able to inspect his cunt at any time, as long as it was a private space. When it was time for inspection, the proper position was “on your knees.”

Thinking about the rules only made the tension worse.

I moved my knees apart to keep myself from rubbing them together when I received his text. 

Time for another bathroom trip, pet. I can see your need, go touch that gorgeous little pussy for me a bit, again.

It was about halfway through the reception and he’d already commanded me to the edge 3 times. This time, I realized I wasn’t going to be able to make it through the line and into a stall within 5 minutes. 

I ended up in the coat closet instead hoping no one needed anything from it…

I touched myself. Soaking wet. Dripping down my thighs. Pure, pent up, absolute NEED. I tried not to moan as I jammed my fingers deep inside of me. 

I made it with just a tiny gasp… and then I heard them. 

Two of Sir’s friends were outside of the closet. I panicked, until I realized they had just stopped and were talking. 

“Did you see her though? Rosy cheeks, ragged breath, self-conscious look on her face, seeking him out?” One of them said.

“Yeah, man. She’s been calling him “Sir” all night, too.” The other responded.

Oh my god. They were talking about me, and they knew. They knew what a filthy little slut I was for Sir. They knew and it made me fuck myself even harder, made me press my clit into the bone beneath it, craving a little pain. I got so close to the abyss, I almost went over.

But I pulled back, breathing the ache out of my cunt and into the room.

It must have hit them, because one of them said “Fuck, she’s so damn needy even I can feel it. Lucky S.O.B.”

I licked my fingers clean at the thought of their desire for me.

I didn’t have time to contemplate for long. I had stopped, but the clock to get back to Daddy had started. I had no idea how I was gonna get past them and back to the main room in 2 minutes. Fuck. Sir won’t care if that’s why I broke the rule. “There is always a choice, you just didn’t like the options” starts ringing through my ears in his voice.

Thankfully, they decided they needed another drink and moved on, and I was able to reenter the room within the time frame.

I scanned the room…. I could feel him, but I couldn’t find him.

He found me. He came up behind me, hands around my waist and whispered “I can smell your need, Kitten.”

He kissed me, and said “Mmm. I can taste your need, Kitten.”

He moved his finger under my dress, obscured by our position.

“I can feel your need, Kitten. Have you been a good girl?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me how.”

“I edged while listening to Jorge and Jimmy talk about how they noticed my submission, Sir.” I said, with a whimper, remembering… aching… It had still only been 5 minutes since I’d stared the abyss in the face. My body was yearning, breath shallow, eyes bright.

“Did you want them to fuck you, baby?” 

“Fuck. Yes. But I belong to you, and only you get to know what my cunt feels like, Daddy.” 

“That is right. Good Girl. Follow me.” He commanded.

He led me to the parking lot, to our car, that I now realized he had parked in a dark corner, far away from any of the lights. I hadn’t noticed that when we arrived in daylight, but Sir of course, had.

“Take the dress off and assume your position” he said.

Rule Number Six

So, a while back I decided to get sober. (Wait for it… it comes back around.) I went to the meetings and joined the clubs and all that… and, it worked. No more drinking. The best piece of advice I got?… 

“Stick with the old-timers. They got it figured out.”

A while before that I did a stint in prison. I was a kid. Just old enough to get drafted not old enough to get drunk. None of it seemed real. Did real time, though. Best advice I got?… “Stick with the old timers. They got it figured out.”

That piece of wisdom has served me well in my years as a contributing member of society. So, when MG @wolfpack-princesskitty and I first turned to Tumblr and a few other sites in search of any info or insights into our newly-confessed shared fantasies… one of my first thoughts was 

“Stick with the fucking old timers.” 

And, after several months of watching many blogs I had determined who those people were and I began to make connections. And I’m very thankful for the connections we have made, and for those who have agreed to mentor MG and me along the way. All providing a sobering and real life perspective on various aspects of a 24/7 D/s relationship; in our case, a marriage. So glad to be grounded here right now.

Because from where I stand 90% of the rest of the time this shit looks like Vegas, baby. Wooo!

 Welcome to D/s relationships for millennials.  

What it looks like: It looks like 50 Shades of Harry Potter and Sparkly goddamned Vampires is what it looks like… and it looks fucking awesome! Expensive suits and Bitches in black lingerie kneeling and crawling… the leashes and spankings and the gagging on cocks… timid, meek, all trusting subs and stoic, powerful, all knowing doms. Paradise for the slightly-to-moderately twisted peoples of a certain ilk… I mean, it can’t be that perfect in real life, but still… come on.

You can hate it all you like, but those books and movies are the extent of John Q. Public’s grasp on your chosen lifestyle, and at worst, it has turned out to be a great ‘evangelical tool’ as it were…

But someone has to sort out the abusers and the narcissists and the standard model douche bags from the good guys with good intentions. Somebody has to inject truth and reason and wisdom into the conversation. Someone has to show us where the ground ends and the clouds begin so we can self-moderate. Because…

What it is:

It’s hard work, dedication, devotion, integrity, grit, determination, kindness in the hardest of times… honesty, communication… Just like any functioning relationship, really…

It looks like 50 Shades of Harry Potter and Sparkly goddamned Vampires is what it looks like… and it looks fucking awesome!

It’s boundaries and security and exploring sexual interests together… it’s a little bit of doubt (Ok, maybe a lot of doubt at times), a little bit of fear, enough love to carry two sometimes three, four, five souls forward into a new real life, where everything is a decision… a choice… even for those who make no choices. A life in which lust is a limitless hunger… an insatiable wolf… and your hunger is so focused you want to entirely destroy and devour this pretty little thing wearing your collar…

Sometimes it’s body issues, and insecurities about cock size, and irrational conversations into the early morning hours… often, the stronger of the two quietly trying to decide just how much truth the other person can actually handle… sometimes it’s greatly overestimating that amount of truth…

Sometimes it’s a spark of hope… and sometimes it’s a last resort…

Sometimes it’s ropes and cuffs and collars and bruises… and sometimes it’s blankets and snacks and kisses and cuddles…

It’s an empowerment achieved in a point of singularity where both the powerful and powerless are each perfectly balanced one with the other… mutually satisfied. A feeling like no other.

 For some of us, it’s what we’ve come seeking… for some of us it’s just who we are…

For every idiot ‘Tubmlr Daddy’, there’s a good man with a great dom inside, watching you blast the new generation from the comfort of your well-earned status, and doubting himself… afraid that he’s not a real dominant. Too afraid his ask will get him ridiculed. I know because that was me before I finally manned up and reached out. 

Please keep in mind that we’re not all a part of the tide of idiots and abusers… please continue to be an island for those of us who were simply swept up in their wake…

So, a shout out to those blogs and bloggers that have informed us, included us, inspired us…

@instructor144, @thetriskeliondiaries, @dinodaddy, @verse50, @theruleset, @submissive-seeking, @the-faculty, @i-could-be-the-walrus, @amysubmits, @itsshinycollectordestinyworld, @sincardinality, @quietlyconscious, @techiejedi, @tooprettytolive, @theropegeek, @crusoesampersand, @maddigans, @westcoastgentleman, @yessiraustralia-again

and a ton more I’m leaving out… For those of you who know who the hell we are, and those who don’t… For those who are personally investing their time into our success… for those who don’t even realize how real an impact you have… 

I’m not sucking up (maybe a little)… I’m not posturing…

me: *realises how ugly i am*

Advice From An Old Farmer:

Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.

Keep skunks and bankers at a distance.

Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.

A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.

Words that soak into your ears are whispered, not yelled.

Meanness don’t jes’ happen overnight.

Forgive your enemies; it messes up their heads.

Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.

It don’t take a very big person to carry a grudge.

You cannot unsay a cruel word.

Every path has a few puddles.

When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.

The best sermons are lived, not preached.

Most of the stuff people worry about ain’t never gonna happen anyway.

Don’t judge folks by their relatives.

Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll enjoy it a second time.

Don’t interfere with somethin’ that ain’t bothering you none.

Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a Rain Dance.

If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.

Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.

The biggest troublemaker you’ll probably ever have to deal with watches you from the mirror every mornin’.

Always drink upstream from the herd.

Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.

Lettin’ the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin’ it back in.

If you get to thinkin’ you’re a person of some influence, try orderin’ somebody else’s dog around.

Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly.

Don’t pick a fight with an old man. If he is too old to fight, he’ll just kill you.

So last night I had a night terror and if you have those you know the likely hood of going back to sleep is nil. Daddy likes for me to stay in bed, so I just get on my tablet. Well boredom got to me……here’s some tags for y'all. Part 1

@hecallsmeharper @itsshinycollectordestinyworld @delightfulsynergy2 @defiantslv @firefairy76 @fithotwife @darkazazael @delightfulsubgirl

Today has been a rough one, sometimes life is just that way. A hug always helps. Just in case you needed one today. I 🖤my tribe!

@firefairy76 @fithotwife @darkazazael @babygirl-1972 @magpie-69 @heartshapedbruises777 @lttle-miss @i-am-dubs @hecallsmeharper @daddysbrattygirly @delightfulsubgirl @itsshinycollectordestinyworld @daddyandhislittleprincess11102 @delightfulsynergy2 @dinodaddy @instructor144 @the-mindful-kitten @alythedisobedient @louwho614 @defiantslv @thecomicbookj @droppinby

Daddy- @texasbikerdom49

By Kayla Lords

We talk an awful lot about predatory, abusive, poser, wannabe Dominants and their red flags. But that makes it sound like every submissive is a perfect angel simply waiting for the right Dominant to appear. Uhhh, not quite.

The vast majority of submissives I’ve met have been good people who are like everyone else — trying to navigate desires, kinks, and life to find the right partner. But that doesn’t mean we’re all perfect or we get it all right.

Some submissives can be predatory. Just ask all the women who slide into John Brownstone’s DMs and promise they can make him forget me. Others aren’t actually submissive, they’re playing a game or enjoying a fantasy. And some just don’t know any better or think manipulation is the only way to get what they want.

In this list, we’re not talking exclusively about the motivation behind the action. We’re simply pointing out a few red flags to show Dominants aren’t the only ones who can behave badly.

Begging/Demanding to Be Dominated

“Tell me what to do, Daddy!”

“I’m yours, Mistress. I’ll do anything!”

Just like you don’t want a Dominant telling you what to do before you’ve even had an introduction, most good, solid Dominants don’t want the first submissive who throws themselves at their feet. Frankly, regardless of your motivation for doing it, it shows a serious lack of understanding about consent. Worse, it reeks of desperation. The person who pounces on that is likely full of red flag behavior, too.

Constantly Moving the Goal Post

Pardon the sports metaphor (I’m not exactly sporty or athletic). We all get to have our limits, boundaries, expectations, and needs in a D/s relationship. But some submissives will tell a Dominant they need to see this, experience that, feel this emotion before they’re ready to submit. The Dom jumps through hoops to accomplish it, only to find that the rules have changed again. Now they need to do something else before you submit.

I’m not at all saying that a submissive can’t change their mind. Of course you can. But if every goal achieved  only brings more requirements, it may be time to take a look at what you really want. At best you’re really unsure and need more time, but at worst, you’re fucking with someone’s feelings and manipulating them.

Refusing to Do Anything You Said You Would Do

Before you pull out the pitchforks, this isn’t about boundaries or consent. You’ve had the conversations and negotiated with your Dominant. The parameters have been set. You’ve agreed to certain things. And now, when it’s time to act on it, you refuse. Worse, you’re not talking to your Dominant about what’s going on.

Are you scared? That’s normal. Talk to your Dominant.

Are you having second thoughts? Also completely normal. Talk to your Dominant.

Have you changed your mind about D/s or this specific partner? It happens. Talk to them. (See the pattern?)

When you don’t talk about what’s going on, you wind up manipulating the emotions of the other person. It also makes people angry and relationships get wrecked. If it’s fear, bad tapes, or anything else, talk about it!

Having Zero Limits…or Saying You’ll Do Anything

Any smart and/or experienced Dominant who hears a submissive say that have no limits is going to do one of a few things.

They’re turning the other way and finding someone who has a sense of self-preservation.

They might (if you’re lucky) take you under their wing and teach you how wrong you are about that.

If they happen to be devious, sadistic, or have a twisted sense of humor (that’s every Dominant I know and respect), they’ll ask you to prove it. “Shave your head” or “Cut off a finger” or “Remove all of your clothes and walk through this restaurant naked.”

When you come across the poser, wannabe, fake, predator, or abuser with your “I’ll do anything” attitude, you put yourself in danger. Everyone has limits, even if you’re not quite sure what they are yet or how to discuss them.

Not Paying Attention to What a Dominant is Looking For

A lot of us meet each other online. It doesn’t matter whether it’s on Twitter, through Fetlife, or in a dating app. Which means we all have profiles of some sort. In that profile most people tell you exactly what you need to know about them.

“Love my slave. Not looking.”

“Looking for a service submissive.”

Next thing these Doms know, someone slides into their DMs offering themselves. This submissive isn’t a good fit and doesn’t want what the Dominant wants. But they saw “Dominant” or “Mistress” or “Sir” and figured one Dominant is like another.

Just like we hate being treated as if all subs want the same thing, the same is true with Dominants. If you’re going to send out the same tired message to everyone with a big D title, don’t be surprised if you’re ignored or blocked. You’ve sent a clear signal that you’re not interested in doing the most basic work to form a D/s relationship — reading a profile.

Not Wanting to Participate in the Relationship

Slightly different from not doing anything you’ll say you’ll do (see above), this is about expecting the Dominant to do all the work. Yes, some D/s dynamics mean that a Dominant “takes care” of their submissive. Not every Dom wants that level of responsibility and unless they can be with you every moment of the day, it’s not realistic all the time.

Even when it is a possibility, you’re still a part of the relationship. You have a responsibility to help make it work. If you’re not willing to talk, do your part, or be an active participant at the very beginning, it means you won’t be there long-term — especially when things get tough or when the D/s ebbs and flows naturally.

If you expect a Dominant to make all the decisions and all you have to do is show up and look nice,you may be surprised when they refuse. Yes, Doms want some level of control. But not every Dom wants a doormat or someone they can micromanage. Most want a partner who wants to build something with them.

🔵🚫🔵🚫🔵🚫🔵🚫🔵🚫🔵🚫🔵

I found this article and thought many would find it interesting. We often talk about fake doms, but rarely do I see anything about fake subs. There are fakes on both sides of the slash and I think we should be aware of the red flags of both.

I grew up poor.  Really poor, poverty poor.  My mom was a two-time divorcee with no education and three children by two different men.  It was the 1970’s in America.

We grew up with mom working two or three bad jobs, collecting welfare and food stamps, and still sleeping in houses with no heat (in a snow belt) or no water, always running to the next town.

When I was 12, my mom left. She’d had enough.  She left her kids and ran away.  

My sister was out of the house by then, but my younger brother and I were still in middle school.

My brother and I lived for several months without anyone knowing that we didn’t have a parent at home. We were eventually discovered and New York state stepped in.  It wasn’t an improvement.  My younger brother and I spent the next few years shuffling from home to home, sometimes together, most times apart.  What I learned in all of this is that you can’t trust anyone.  

Fast forward 30+ years.

I made my way, and make a good living.  I am a single parent with no backup.  I have no family support, no child support, no network of people.  It’s me and mini-me.  Until Crusoe.

Ah, Crusoe.

What was he thinking?

What man, in his 40s, with his own kids in college, decides that committing to a 40-something submissive with a kid in elementary school is a good idea?

What Dominant, with (quite honestly) the ability to pick and choose, chooses a single parent, OCD workaholic?

Maybe Crusoe is the masochist after all!

Fast forward many years.

Crusoe and I have crossed a HUGE threshold.

Never have I relinquished financial control to anyone.

I don’t borrow money, I don’t allow folks to buy me things, I don’t accept financial help from anyone. My financial goal, my entire life, has been to make others better off so they wouldn’t suffer like I did.

During our years together, Crusoe and I have maintained a mine, his, and ours kind of banking system. This has been at my insistence as I’ve never expected, nor counted on, anyone to back me up financially.

Maybe I’m not a “real” submissive or a “real” slave, but financial freedom is a hard limit for me.

Last year, I purchased a camper for us.  Turns out, it was a disaster.

This year, Crusoe purchased a replacement camper for us - and deck, and sunroom.  

I recognize that we are so very fortunate to have the ability to do these things.

That said, I’m totally freaked out!

The balance of power has changed.

Except that what the fuck does that mean?  In our power dynamic Crusoe has the power.  

Except for the finances – at my insistence.  

Now that Crusoe owns the camper I’m struggling?  What has actually changed other than the name on the title? Gah!!!  Everything has changed!!

My Sir, my Dominant, my Master, has the financial upper hand!

Me.  Who never relies on anyone financially, is at his mercy regarding our camper.  We love our camper!  It is our special place – and he owns it.  Not me.  He controls it.  Not me. Fuck.

I’m hyperventilating just writing it.

It’s weird.  He can beat me.  He can cane me.  He can use me any way he chooses.  I trust him with my life.

And yet, I am struggling to let him have a significant financial stake in my life.

There are so many facets to power exchange.  We all bring a myriad of life experiences into any relationship – but especially into power exchange.

I admit to struggling, but if I’m honest, admit that I relish the opportunity to turn things over to Crusoe.  Today at Lowes, I wondered (to myself) “how much would Crusoe give me to spend on plants if I asked?”  It is the first time, in my life, that’s I’ve considered asking someone else for permission to spend. 

I have my own money and can spend whatever I like within my budget.  Yet for the first time ever in my life, I was willing to defer to another.

Financially, I was ready to ask permission and defer to Crusoe.

It was a first.

I’m somehow terrified and comforted by the new path we’ve forged.

And the #1 choice for entertainment is….

Gives a entirely new meaning to “riding cock”. Soooo, Who’s in?

~ Inviting ~

This needs to be passed around.