The Animal Equilibrium

Ahh, what a title. If that don't draw a crowd, I don't know what will.

Anyways, let's talk about some fun ways that you as a Dom can properly handle your sub in ways that titillate and excite! Which really is all they're after. The say they want peace but that's just a lie (at least 90% of the time). What these lovely little sex-bombs are after is (pretend) danger, (controlled) violence, and (acceptable) degradation. And what kind of Masters would we be if we deprived our good girls of the physical imposition and emotional indignation they crave? 

Now I'm going to assume that as a Dom, you've actually taken the time to earn the title and are genuinely dominant in all aspects of your life, meaning you've taken proper care of your body and posses the physical prowess to toss some poor, innocent (lol) sweetheart around. With that, let's move forward.

Things I Do to Women:

1. Throw your girl over your shoulder any time you're going to a different room for any reason. Tell her you're not gonna just sit there and do *random task* alone, that would be weird. If she tries to leave, continue your task but tell her (smiling, but without looking at her) that in about 6 seconds, you're going to come get her. Then do it. Watch the fucking giggly fun panic she emotes as you chase her down with that "fuck around, find out" smile on your face. Toss her over your shoulder again and bring her bratty ass right back. Now, naturally we can't offer rewards in the form of punishment. They count on that from us. So don't tell her that if she leaves again, you'll tie her up. Then she'll just take off, duh. Tell her that if she waits patiently like a good girl until you reach some checkpoint in your task (just keep that point in your head, don't tell her, but also don't let it exceed 10 minutes) that something good will happen. Then hogtie her up real good. Make sure she's sitting nice and close to you. Pat her head and tell her she's your favorite company to have. Tell her she helps you focus (even better if you've gagged her).

2. Smack. Ass. For real though, smack her ass indiscriminately. The BEST times to do it are when she's trying to focus on something like cooking, reading, chores, etc. No words, no warning, just walk up and lift her dress/pull down her pants and paddle her ass with a bunch of 4/10 slaps. At least 6 or 7. Don't talk, don't look into her eyes, and your fucks sake, DON'T SIT AND WAIT FOR HER REACTION. Seriously, that shit is so unattractive under ANY circumstances. Control the situation, control yourself. Once that fantastic ass of hers is at medium-rare pink, kiss her on the cheek, say "Thinking of you" then walk away and go do something in a different room. If she follows you (50% chance), snap back (softish) with a "Hey, that wasn't an invite! Get back in there!" and send her back.

3. Steal her clothing. A personal favorite of mine is to come up out on nowhere and toss her over a single shoulder. From there, I'll pull her pants and panties down (I usually let her keep the socks, since i'm such a nice guy. If they accidentally come off anyways, oh well). After that, I like to toss her onto the couch, a bed or even just the floor to rob her of the rest. Then say "I need these more than you do" and walk away with them. If she follows you, take them outside or near a large window (doesn't work with exhibitionists). Bonus points if you put her panties around your neck as a trophy. If she persists, tell her she can have them back when you're done but don't answer any further questions. If she likes a bit of degrading, make sure to tell her what a slut she is for her lack of decency. I mean look at her! She's naked!

4. Ask her what her favorite part about her body is today. Then, when she tells you, mark it up in some way. If she says her ass or tits look great today, cover them in bites, hickeys or slap marks. Don't go too crazy, but leave your presence on her then tell her "Now it's my favorite part too". Always be physically imposing when you do this. Nothing your lady will love more than be wrestled to the ground and marked as your territory. Especially because, like all good territory, you just went in there and took it.

Well, that'll do for the time being. Enjoy your foreplay, fellas!

A good friend asked me how I sleep so well. He's been struggling lately himself. I told him a day "Well-Spent" ensures a quality sleep for me. We then discussed how subjective that term is, which naturally makes sense. So, I told him I'd write out my day as a guideline, and he could adjust his own desires in as he saw fit. I wrote this out for him, and now I share it with you.

Three different kinds of meat at a minimum.

Home-Cured Bacon is a must, and is generally accompanied by sausages, farm-fresh eggs and some homemade turkey patties I make and keep frozen. A breakfast with anything less than that really bums me out. Carbs, I don't enjoy at breakfast. No coffee to start, either. Not within the first four hours of my day. But orange juice? If I've run out of orange juice, my morning just isn't even worth having anymore. Toss that day in the trash.

I always like getting my brain working early. Generally, I pick up reading what I fell asleep reading as I enjoy my "Three Animal and OJ" spread. Usually it's something philosophical or psychological. A man always enjoys figuring out how the world around him turns, and in turn, how he can make it turn for him. Though, I did recently read a fascinating book on the Cuttlefish. That was good fun. I do also enjoy educating myself on my local fauna. I've a soft-spot for finding wild greens and fruit on my walks. Nothing like a free, healthy snack.

If it's a weekday, time to get to work. If it's a weekend, time to visit my friends at the gym. Work is a blank canvas of potential where I get to build systems, routines and expectations for the people around me. My freedom is boundless and valued. I do my best work in the absence of limitations. Once I feel enough has been accomplished for the day, I leave. Now it's time for the gym.

I'll be there an hour at a minimum, but never more than two. It never takes longer than that. I don't like taking more than a forty five second break between my sets and exercises, so a brisk pace is kept and I am well and truly exhausted in a moderately short amount of time. Once you can't pick the weight up anymore (or you think that continuing on the treadmill will end in you becoming a goofy viral video), you're done. Now you've earned the right to leave that temple.

If I've any errands to run that I prefer to handle myself, I'll do them now. If not, time to go home. My home is kept clean, always. Not obsessively, mind you. I don't put plastic wrap on the couch or wipe down all my plants leaves every day. But it's tidy, organized, and beautiful. And smells vaguely of citrus and musk, I'm told. Apparently, that's a compliment. Dinner will most certainly be ready for me, unless of course I've said that I'll be cooking tonight. The ladies make many lovely, delectable dishes. Truly, they understand the fuel my tank needs. But sometimes the joy of throwing together a perfect palate-pleaser for whoever is in my company (even if it's just me, myself and I) makes for the most satisfying cherry on top of an already lovely day.

Once dinner is settled (and only if I'm in the mood), I'll peruse my liquor cabinet for the perfect beverage to wash down my meal. Sometimes I like to get fancy, and have recently been practicing making cocktails. Ever had a "Pimm's Cup"? One of my favorites. Very refreshing. If not a cocktail, then a dram of scotch. 

Now it's time to visit with my lady(s). But I'm sure you've no interest in that.

Once our deep theological, spiritual and intellectual communion has finished, I go "play" good and proper. Recently, I've taken up painting. I'm no good, mind you. But I'm told that being shitty at something is the first step towards being good at something. I appreciate that kind of optimism. I've also been teaching myself to play the piano. That's been going better than the painting. Or, at least, nobody has complained yet. But the hobbies are endless. My curiosity is unending, and my desire to learn and master shifts on a whim. Before painting, it was trading on the foreign exchange market. After that, it was foraging and homesteading. Before that, it was reading books on how boat engines work. This is the part of my day that evaporates the quickest, but I always have something to show for it when I'm done, and that makes me proud.

Finally, we near the end. As soon as I get tired, it's off to bed. Sometimes it's earlier, sometimes it's later. But I won't go to sleep until I'm truly ready for it. I like my room cold, and leave the window open well through the winter. The women hate it, but they're well-warned before they enter it. I also keep a surplus of warm, cozy evening wear for them. You'd be amazed at the amount of feminine concerns handled by a pair of warm, soft men's pajamas. Once I'm settled in to bed, I like to try and read (if I still have the energy) for a few minutes. It gives my dreams something exciting to contemplate. But more often than not, my head hits my pillow and I'm asleep in under two minutes.

There you have it. A full day of growth, adventure, fun and excitement. Add a splash of those things in and you'll sleep like a baby. Failing that, have you considered vodka? Best of luck.

Mmm.

Nothing revs my engine like watching that sweet, delicate creature bend and fold under the faintest hinting breath of my touch. She curls her toes, she whimpers, goes weak in the knees, closes her eyes and exudes a breathy "Fuck..." as my fingers explore the most sensitive, hidden treasures of her body. 

I kiss her clit to the edge of ecstasy. She says "I love you..." and means it.

I squeeze her body so hard, it bruises. She says "Thank you" and means it.

I take my favorite knife and trace my whims across her flesh. She says "I belong to you, you own me" and means it.

And it's true. I do own her. Everything about her exists to bring me pleasure and to serve each and every fancy that takes me. She brings her friends home and serves them to me on a silver platter. She dresses pleasing to my eye, every second of every day. She smiles, laughs, exudes warmth and fills my home with feminine grace. She pushes her own boundaries to better align them with mine. She belongs to me. I own her.

Words could never do justice the depth of love, appreciation and respect I hold for this woman. It's never spoken, and only acknowledged in eye contact. But I'm as much hers as she is mine. Her and I laugh and joke over it. Before we met, she was a respectable girl who kept herself (mostly) for the man who she'd give herself completely to. I, on the other hand, was "a big slut". I guess I still am. I mean, I do enjoy her friends and other women at my leisure. But regardless, while they only make me cum, she makes me feel. That might be the corniest cop-out excuse I've ever given to explain the circumstances of what I am and how I live. But the words hold true. That woman invokes in me more protect drive, dominant restraint and unmitigated lust than any such creature before her. I'd die for that woman. I'd kill for that woman. I use their fuck holes. I cherish hers. I mark them because I want to. I mark her because I need to. I make them cum to break them. I make her cum to build her up.

I'd like to think she knows. Honestly, I believe she does. But maybe I should tell her. Maybe I should let her know what when I'm running my tongue up and down both her holes, pulling away right before she gets there then burying my tongue as deep as it will go back into whichever hole I'm favoring in the moment...

That I love her.

That she's a good girl. That's she's better than the rest. That I value her. That I respect her. That I ache for her when she's gone.

It's kind of funny. I'd resigned my life to giving women physical and emotional bliss, if but for a moment. But ultimately, I saw my existence coming to a close in a place occupied by only myself, and every shadow of every hollow attempt to find the magical creature I'd conceptualized that, just maybe, really did exists out there.

Then I found her.

And now I'm not alone. Now I have her. Now I have it all. Just liked I'd hoped, but never planned. 

And every day, I work to be worthy of such a blessing. I have to. I won't be satisfied unless I myself am satisfied that I've earned it.

I'm almost done writing this. As soon as I post this, I'm going to make her cum. Then I'm cooking her lamb for dinner. She's a good girl. The best girl. The least I can do is fuck, taste, lick, squeeze and hold her to the brink of reality, shattering her mind in orgasmic bliss, tender love and appreciation all the way from start to finish. For everything that she gives me, the least I can give her is several orgasms so powerful, they remove her from her worries, her fears, her insecurities and her pains.

For but a brief moment, I can give her the feeling that all is right in the world.

And it's a fucking honor to do so.

I've been selfish lately.

There was a time where I used to engage in the communities that helped grow, shape, form and refine the man that I am. I used to write multi-page essays to help men (and women, but to a lesser extent) get what they wanted out of this life. Be it more sex, more money, more power/freedom (they're the same thing), etc.

I prided myself on the passing of knowledge to those who needed it. It was a great honor, and it fortified my soul deeply. There is no greater force in this world than benevolent compassion via anonymity. Helping for the sake of helping, with absolutely no "payment" other than knowing that somewhere out there, someone is living a better life because you typed out a few words and put your thoughts to paper. It made me feel good. Real good. I never shared what I was doing with anyone in my real life. Chances are, they may not understand. But more importantly, I felt like telling them was a betrayal to the nature of helping. I didn't want recognition, and I still don't. 

But I still want to help. 

So that leads me to this reason for this blog. A simple, straight-forward lesson based off of years of experience, many a lovely lady enjoyed, and many a lesson hard-learned. I've chosen this topic because of a conversation I just had on another website that I contribute to. 

The essence of the issue was his questioning on what makes a man Alpha, Dominant and a Leader. His line of thinking was "What are the things I have to say to make her submit to me? I try to tell her what to do but she always gets bratty. What do you say to get your girls to listen?"

Oof...

Buddy, if I'm doing my job correctly, I shouldn't have to say a damn thing. My eye contact is enough. Submission is ONLY earned. But that's a mean thing to say, so I responded...

"What I need you to understand is there absolutely is NOT a simple "SAY X, Y AND Z AND SHE'LL SIMP FOR THAT DICK" to being dominant. If there was, we'd have discovered it a long time ago, and it would have been abused beyond belief by now. Think of it like this. Have you ever met a true and proper Alpha Male? I assume most people have met at least one. Did he walk into the room and yell "Hey guys, I'm the Alpha here so act accordingly!". Of course not, and doing so would immediately put him at the bottom of the totem poll. But his presence is sensed regardless. Why? How? It certainly wasn't from anything he said. But everyone in the room could tell. The men came up and tried to see if they could be his friend. The girls all came up and started asking him about himself, laughing or smiling at literally everything he said. 

Why? How could they tell what he was? Easy. It's his energy. His presence. The air around him. The air tastes different when an Alpha Male walks into the room. You look at him, he looks at you, and you immediately know what he is, and perhaps even what you are to him. But telling you to just have "dominate energy" isn't going to teach you anything. So I'll try my best to put it into more tangible terms for you."

I then proceeded to send him a long, wordy message of how to be more dominant, citing examples from my own life and the referenced experiences of others. Because I wish to keep this forum and my other forum separate, I'll paraphrase from this point on.

First and foremost, the overwhelming majority of women "feel" more than they "think" about social interactions. Especially with men. Men are the opposite. The problem is most men "think" there's a logical answer to their interactions, and there isn't. They think there's a simple formula they can follow to obtain their desires. What you need to do is step outside of the tangible and into the abstract. First and foremost, what makes a man dominant? I would say it's an unspoken expression of his "Power". 

Hear this now. POWER is the degree of control a person has over their own life. Nothing more, nothing less. Money isn't power. I could beat a billionaire to death with my bare hands without breaking a sweat in under 10 seconds. Physical prowess isn't power. I don't care how muscular you are, 6 bullets to the chest will level that playing field right out. Fame isn't power, the court of public opinion can take that from you in a second.

I HATE referencing popular culture, but this is a true as true gets. Uncle Ben had it right,

With Great Power, Comes Great Responsibility

You have a woman, literally, in the palm of your hands. Her well-being depends on you. She might be basing her entire existence off of what you say and how you respond. You need to take that as absolutely fucking serious as anything could every possibly be taken. "Ownership" is NO JOKE. This is not some passing fantasy of having a girl become obsessed with you. If that's how you feel, then get the fuck out now. I have nothing nice to say about fake doms. You're just manipulative, not a diamond-in-the-rough.

What makes a man dominant is how much control he displays over his own life and his own actions. Does he do what he wants? When he wants? Where he wants? Does he work a job he chose and enjoys? Does he surround himself only with people he's vetted and deemed worthy of his time and attention? Does he shape the world around him, rather than letting it shape him? Does he speak his mind, regardless of whether it makes him fresh enemies?

If you want that kind of freedom, then it's simple. Here's 3 basic principles.

1. Go the the Gym

     - Taking care of your body shows a commitment to being "better". You can't steal a good physique. You can't buy it, trade for it, find it or wish it. You can ONLY earn it. And everyone knows that when they see it. A healthy body is one of the most tangible "I think I'm worth it" displays a person can present.

2. Learn to Say No

     - You know what I NEVER do? Let people step beyond my boundaries. Ever. If you don't respect your own limits, nobody will respect you. Plain and simple. Are you a doormat? Or are you a wall. Let them be upset. Say no. 

3. Never Stop Growing

     - Rookie mistake of the year, and so many men make it. Once they get in a decent bit of shape, start standing up for what they want more often and begin learning to master the world around them, they suddenly start getting the attention of women who want to be with them and men who want to be like them. Then they stop improving, because they're getting what they wanted. What you need to understand is that they liked you not because of the level that you were at. but because YOU WERE ON A PATH UP and they wanted to come along. Then you just suddenly come to a grinding halt? Not a chance. It just shows you were only improving to get THEIR validation. Not your own. Never stop improving. Never stop growing.

There. Some basic advice. Looking to earn a woman's submission? Be a Master of YOU. Not of her.

Hot Diggity Daffodil. I missed you lovely people. 

Where to start...

My lovely lady and I just had a good conversation about her being "mine".

We bring other women into our bed. I've made it very clear that she is mine, and the only one that actually is. The others are there to enhance the experience for the two of us, and for them to gain the comfort that a strong, masculine presence (and multiple, Earth-shattering orgasms) brings. Everyone deserves love and attention. Women, most of all. The thought of a "good girl" having no man to tell her so breaks my heart.

No silly hyperbole. I truly mean that.

She said to me just a little while ago this evening, "Well, if one of the girls gets a flat tire, I don't want YOU to be the first person she calls for help. I want you to be the 4th or 5th".

Which is a very sweet and loving way for her to say "You're MY Master. You come to MY rescue".

Now, her boundaries are equally as important to me as my own. She truly is MY woman. The one I've chosen. The one I chose every morning. Her happiness and well-being is everything to me, and this woman deserves as much comfort and happiness that this world (and myself) are capable of providing for her. She truly is the most staggeringly phenomenal woman I've ever encountered in my many, many adventures through this lifetime.

But that doesn't mean that I'll forgo my obligations as a citizen of this world.

My response was as follows...

"Let me make something very clear to you. I understand your desire to be the sole-benefactor of my attentions. Truly, I do. Every woman wants to be the center of her man's attention. that, I understand. But me going out to fix the flat tire of someone in need has nothing to do with sex. I'd do it for *co-worker #1" or even *Jackass old neighbor #3*. I'd go and help because it's the right thing to do. Not because it has anything to do with her position in my life or my desire to increase my image with her. I'd go and change her tire for no reason other than she's in trouble and needs help. And I don't appreciate the idea of your jealousy stopping me from helping a person who truly needs it, regardless of whether I've fucked them or not, help is help. I'd do the same for everyone. Anyone. It's the right thing to do".

But that isn't the point of why she brought this up to me. She brought it up because, plain and simple, she needed affirmation that she was the only woman who was truly "mine". She needed to be comforted on her position in my life. What she wants matters to me. A lot. So I (willingly) gave her exactly what she wanted.

"Who's my woman? Who's the only girl I ever truly kept? Who wears the collar? Who sleeps in my bed with me?"

"It's me, Master. It's me".

"It is. Always. Every single night. Every single day. They go home. You stay. My heart belongs to you. My love. My best friend. The greatest woman I've ever met. (Then, with a smile, a wink and a stroke of the cheek) My goodest of girls".

Managing a harem is something I've been unsuccessful in finding any "How-To" guides online about. I guess it's not something that occurs often, and if it does, the men doing it probably have more engaging priorities on their mind than writing up guides on how to balance the fine art of female comfort and masculine domination.

So I'll give some advice of my own.

One girl will set herself apart from the rest. Ambition burns bright, and it's hard to miss. One woman will always bare her soul more openly than the others, and will insist on you KNOWING that she loves you, appreciates you, and wants nothing more than to see you grow, strengthen, recuperate and be happy. 

Love these women. Respect these women. Give them what they want. Give them a safe place. Give them comfort. Give them relief. They've earned it, and will continue to direct every single word, thought and action towards the betterment of your life, well-being and satisfaction. Woe to the man who takes these women for granted, and places others above her. Woe to the man who allows his short-term sexual excitement to shame the devotion of his most loving and venerable of lovers. 

Sometimes, your devoted submissive needs to know that she truly is "different", and holds a place in your life that genuinely only has room for one.

Just fucking tell her. Tell her she's yours. Tell her she'll always be yours. She's earned it.

She's a good girl.

I can't help but wonder what kind of people one's ancestors would have to have been to impart such strong biological urges in a person several generations down the line. 

I've always had the primal "monster" that lies inside rather close to the surface. It isn't something that's come out exclusively during sex. In fact, I'd say sex accounts for 20% of where my primal instincts seem to manifest. The remaining expenditure is directed towards all other aspects of my day to day life, be them social, professional or casual. I'll always remember the day I realized my teeth were bigger than most. What has always fascinated me, is the degree that people are willing to go to avoid conflict of any kind. So then, one naturally has to wonder, what if you don't avoid go out of your way to avoid conflict? What if you're actually good at it? What if you like it? 

It started innocently enough. The simple words, "People only treat you as shitty as you let them". They made so much sense. Poor childhood treatment ended in a flash after I broke his nose and two ribs. I was targeted no more. My first real job outside of high-school was quite intense, and a staggering amount of responsibility for a 17 year old. The work was long and grueling, but I loved it. It was such a fucking challenge. But then the manager got greedy. He threatened the hours of several good men and women I worked with. I threatened to remove myself and half his work force from his employment if he continued down this path. We reached an understanding. This pattern continued in nearly every situation I didn't like the outcome or handling of. I realized I had the power to enact change in my world. To bend and shape it to an image I liked better than the one I'd be given. I would ask questions. I would suggest alternatives. I would demand change. What I wanted came to me, more and more and more. Then, the most soul-scouring question I'd ever contemplated in my life became the focus of all my attention. What kind of world did I want to build for myself, knowing I possessed the tools to do so? If you ever want to see what kind of person you are, gain power. You'll see first-hand what kind of soul you posses.

I thought on it for some time. I still do. It's important to reflect on what you've done, assuring yourself that you would still stand by the decisions you've made. What I knew for certain was I didn't want to be a villain. The world had enough of those, and deep down, I've always had a soft heart. Maybe I could be a protector? I'd already saved myself. I didn't need protecting anymore. But... I was damn good at it. Maybe there were others out there who couldn't shield themselves. Maybe they were weak. Maybe they didn't know how. Maybe they didn't think they deserved it. Maybe I could help them.

I threatened a man today who made aggressive advances on a female coworker of mine. I guess that's where this whole post stemmed from. He said something crude to her. Not subtle at all. I told him if he ever said something so fucking stupid in my presence again, I was going to throw him down the fucking stairwell. I meant it, too. I was angry. I wanted to hurt him, and badly. She's a sweet girl. He tried defending himself, explaining he meant no harm. I told him to walk out the door and never return. And he did. I must have been visibly unsettled, as it took her a while to approach me. She hugged me tight and thanked me. I told her it was my job. I meant it.

Would I have been some savage warlord in a different time? Maybe. Deep down, selfishly and optimistically, I'd like to think I'd have been a wise, old King. But quite frankly, I may just be trying to justify my judgments. Who knows, maybe the world will change some day. Maybe I'll get to build a beautiful kingdom after all. But until that day, I'll continue to stand tall. I'll protect those who need it. I'll help those who want it. I'll stop those who deserve it. I can live with the consequences of my actions.

I stand by my decisions. If what you're doing is wrong or stupid, I won't keep it to myself. The well-being of someone with better intentions than yourself may depend on it.

I'm soft with her.

Always.

Don't get me wrong, she can handle quite a lot, and every day she grows more capable. But I've always given her and others space for error. Mistakes happen, and they must be handled with understanding and gentle firmness. Understanding what motivates a person, especially a submissive, simplifies that exchange. I know she would never intentionally cause me harm, discomfort or disappointment. In fact, far from. So when these things happen, they're never met with aggressive, disapproving emotion. I never take it personally. Control must ALWAYS be maintained in these situations. I would say that the truest mark of someone who is naturally dominant is their ability to maintain their mental and emotional state. How can you be a source of security if you prove yourself, even once, to be a danger? How can you be a strong oak in the storm if you break under the pressure? How can you be trusted if you break that trust even once?

I understand that everything in life is a grey area. There are exceptions to every rule. No two things are every truly the same, and therefore must be handled as such, with an open mind and with a desire to understand.

But I draw the line at myself. And it's a very hard line.

For myself, I expect nothing less than perfection. Be at the gym four days a week. Wake up early. Keep all emotions regulated and well under control. Eat properly. Educate yourself. Have hobbies you're proud of. Strive for more. Achieve what you want. Be approachable. Handle all problems given to you, regardless of how heavy they may stack up on top of what you're already dealing with. Always listen. Always think first. Never react rashly. Be kind but firm in enforcing boundaries and expectations. Lead, not because you desire to hold power, but because someone else might get it wrong. It's your duty. It's your honor. You're depended on. The mental, physical and emotional well-being of those who are dear to you may truly rely on your ability to never waiver or falter. You are their constant port in their storm. Don't break. Don't crack. Don't trip. Don't look back. Don't doubt. Don't be afraid. Don't let them down. 

It sounds like a lot, once read out loud. But honestly, even the sight of all these self-imposed expectations makes me so... content. I get to be strong for them, and it's never been a burden. I'm grateful that I'm able to do it. 

I would never impose such expectations on another, let alone a submissive I've taken into my care. Or even an aspiring dominate, to be quite frank. Like I said, we all make mistakes. But I won't tolerate them in myself. If you want the best in the life, you have to be the best. And I'm inspired by the presence of those around me to be better. To be more. They deserve a safe harbor. They deserve love, protection, and understanding. They deserve to be heard. They deserve to be understood. Any despair I may feel over the harshness of my self-treatment is immediately forgotten the second she wipes away her last tear and says "Thanks for being you".

I'll never stop fighting. I'll never stop growing. I'll never stop helping. I'll never stop loving.

My inner animal finally made a reappearance. I'll admit, I've been so focused on the rest of my life that I'd nearly pushed it all the way to the back.

Then it just... showed up again. My slave was happy to say the least. We've yet to go more than two or three days without sex in the four years we've been together, even at the worst of times. But then it was back. I threw her over my shoulder. Told her I needed her. Collared her. Then relinquished all self-control. I marked her with bites and bruises, scratches and scrapes. I used her over and over and over again. I filled her womb four times over the span of an uninterrupted three hour fuck-fest, and even then, I wanted more. I had more to give. I truly am insatiable, but she's never minded. I craved her craving of my cock. The way she arches her hips that extra bit when she truly sinks into being bred by her Master. The gasps of given pleasure. The moans of her found meaning. I lost all control. I ravaged her. Every hole. Every way. Every dignity. Every ounce of her.

Taken. I wanted it all. Everything. I wanted it to be mine.

I defiled and debased her as much as an animal is lovingly capable of. She begged for more, sobbing "Thank you.." into the mattress as I savagely claimed every square inch of her. To see her be so grateful for the opportunity to pleasure her Master filled me with great satisfaction. Her happiness means so much to me. She deserves to feel whole. We hadn't been this close in what felt like so long. She said nothing at first, resting her head on my chest once I had finally stopped. Then she told me that she loved me. She loved me so much. I told her I loved her as I caressed her beautiful, flowing hair. She's so strong, and was so patient over the weeks that I had been building the extremities of our rapidly expanding lives. It felt good to let go. Clearly, for both of us. And I'll admit, I was happy to have shaken the shell of my modest existence these past weeks.

Now it's time to get back to work, and the extra edge I've reclaimed will ease the process. There's more that I want from this world. It's taken years to build, but it's right at my fingertips. I'm so close. I won't miss. I won't fail. I will have the things that I want.

To those who stumble across my blog, I appreciate you taking part. I've never shared so openly, and I'll admit, I feels good. I hope that you too get exactly what it is that you want. I hope it completes you. I hope you find happiness.