The stories

Eliza smoothed the crisp white tablecloth, her movements precise, controlled. It was a small act, almost insignificant, but tonight, everything felt weighted with unspoken expectations. Across the table, David watched her, his gaze intense, assessing. He didn't need to say anything; his presence alone held a subtle pressure, a reminder of their dynamic.

Their relationship wasn't built on brute force or overt control. David's dominance was more…architectural. He designed the framework, the rules within which Eliza could express herself, but ultimately, he held the blueprint. Initially, she’d found it liberating. After years of drifting, she felt anchored, valued for her willingness to yield. It felt safe.

But lately, the safety felt like a gilded cage. The rules, once comforting, now chafed. She yearned to make choices that weren't pre-approved, to express opinions that weren't filtered through the lens of David’s preferences. She wanted to surprise him, and, perhaps more importantly, surprise herself.

"The wine," David said, his voice low and resonant, breaking the silence. "It needs decanting. You know I prefer you to handle that."

Eliza's fingers tightened on the tablecloth. It was a simple request, a ritualistic part of their evening. But tonight, it felt like a challenge. An assertion of control.

Instead of obeying, she met his gaze. "David," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "I…I'd like to talk about something."

His brow furrowed. He clearly hadn't expected defiance. "Of course, Eliza. What is it?" His tone was patient, but she detected a hint of steel beneath.

"I need…more," she stammered. "More input. More…freedom."

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. David’s eyes darkened. "Freedom within our structure, Eliza, is something you already have. We've discussed this."

"But the structure feels…suffocating," she whispered. The words hung in the air, fragile and vulnerable.

He rose from his chair, his movements fluid and deliberate. He circled the table, stopping behind her. His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, a possessive gesture that once thrilled her.

"Is this a test, Eliza?" he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "Are you trying to push the boundaries?"

She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. "No," she said, her voice barely audible. "It's a plea."

The weight of his hands intensified. Eliza knew she was treading dangerous ground. But for the first time in a long time, she felt a spark of something more powerful than fear: a nascent hope that perhaps, just perhaps, she could rewrite the blueprint of their relationship. The conflict was brewing, not just between them, but within herself - a battle between the comfortable submission and the terrifying, exhilarating prospect of her own agency. The decanter remained untouched on the sideboard. The evening, and their future, hung in the balance.

The scent of old books and brewing coffee hung heavy in "The Dusty Quill," a bookstore Elara practically lived in. At 22, she was a whirlwind of vibrant energy, armed with a battered copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude and a penchant for challenging established norms. Then she met Arthur.

Arthur, the bookstore's owner, was a quiet storm of silver hair, tweed jackets, and eyes that held stories older than Elara herself. He was, by her estimation, pushing 53, a fact that made her friends giggle nervously whenever she mentioned him. "Arthur's just… Arthur," she'd defend, waving away their concerns. He was the kind of man who knew exactly where to find a first edition, who could quote poetry at the drop of a hat, and who listened with an intensity that made her feel truly seen.

Their connection sparked slowly, over whispered recommendations and shared laughter echoing amongst the towering bookshelves. He’d gently steer her towards overlooked gems, she’d drag him to poetry slams where he’d awkwardly, but charmingly, clap along. He told her about the war, the fall of the Berlin Wall, his travels. She told him about her dreams, her anxieties about the future, her passion for social justice. The age gap, initially a looming presence, began to fade into the background, replaced by a genuine fondness and growing respect.

One rainy afternoon, as they were closing up, Arthur placed a worn copy of Elizabeth Bishop's poems in her hands. "For you," he said, his voice soft. He reached out, his fingers brushing hers. Elara's heart hammered. The touch was electric, unexpected, and surprisingly right.

The relationship that followed was both exhilarating and challenging. Elara faced whispers and judgements. Arthur wrestled with his own insecurities, the fear of holding her back, of being a burden. Their friends and family struggled to understand the relationship, but they were determined to make it work.

Ultimately, their bond was built on something far deeper than age. It was built on shared intellectual curiosity, on a mutual respect for each other's perspectives, and on a love that blossomed in the quiet corners of a dusty bookstore. The future was uncertain, of course, but for Elara and Arthur, navigating it together felt like the most natural thing in the world. They found comfort in each other. Arthur, who thought he was going to live out his life in peace, instead found himself at an unlikely age starting a new chapter of his life.

Rain lashed against the windows of Elias's apartment, a comforting counterpoint to the nervous flutter in Clara's stomach. This was it. After weeks of hesitant conversations, of exploring boundaries through text messages and whispered phone calls, they were finally here. Herebeing Elias's meticulously clean, surprisingly cozy living room, transformed tonight into a space for exploration.

Elias knelt before her, his gaze gentle despite the powerful presence he projected. He held a soft, velvet blindfold. “Clara,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. “Are you ready?”

Her throat was dry. She nodded, the movement barely perceptible. He reached up, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek, and secured the blindfold. The world dissolved into black, sharpening her other senses. The scent of sandalwood filled her nostrils, a smell she associated with safety and Elias.

“Good girl,” he whispered. He took her hand, his touch firm and reassuring. He led her to a plush armchair, guiding her gently as she sat. “I want you to focus on your breath, Clara. In… and out…”

She obeyed, concentrating on the rhythm of her inhalations and exhalations. The anxiety began to recede, replaced by a growing sense of anticipation. He began to describe what he was going to do, his voice slow and deliberate. He spoke of a feather, tracing patterns on her skin, and the promise of a pleasurable sting.

He began, the feather light against her arm, then her neck. She shivered, a thrill coursing through her. He moved with practiced grace, his touch confident, yet always mindful of her reactions. He'd pause frequently, asking, "Is this okay, Clara? Are you comfortable?"

Later, after the feather, after the carefully applied sting of a crop, after the gentle restraints, Clara sat curled up in Elias's arms, the blindfold discarded on the floor. The rain had stopped, and a sliver of moonlight peeked through the clouds.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"For what?" Elias asked, gently stroking her hair.

"For being patient, for being kind, for making me feel safe."

He held her tighter. "This is about you, Clara. About exploring your desires, your boundaries. And about trust. We build it together, brick by brick.” He kissed her forehead. “And we have a long way to go." He knew, and she knew, that this was just the beginning of their journey. A journey filled with vulnerability, trust, and the intoxicating discovery of themselves.

I have AuDHD and I’m wondering who else on here is the same. I’m looking for fellow acquaintances who either struggle with it, or use it to help better themselves. 

1.How does this lifestyle help you?
2.What are the Pros and Cons of having AuDHD while engaging in this lifestyle?
3.What is the most important thing you need?

4.What is the thing you hate the most about it? 

So many more questions, just curious to meet some more people like me. 

For me, it provides structure and consistency. There’s to much chaos in life and it stressed me the hell out. In this lifestyle, I can surrender that control. I can let someone else take the reins and guide me. There’s trust and communication. There’s also hope for better. I can use my disabilities to strengthen myself or I can let them drown me. 
What do you choose? 

Dominance and submission are often conceptualized within the context of interpersonal relationships, particularly in the realm of BDSM (Bondage, Discipline, Sadism, and Masochism). However, these dynamics extend beyond sexual practices and can be observed in various aspects of daily life. The interplay between dominant and submissive roles is evident in social hierarchies, workplace environments, and even familial structures. Understanding these roles can provide insight into human behavior and social organization.

The concept of dominance and submission is not limited to sexual or fetish contexts; rather, it can be observed in various forms across different settings. In personal relationships, for instance, partners may adopt dominant or submissive roles based on individual preferences or circumstances. This dynamic can foster a sense of security and stability within the relationship if both parties consent to and understand their roles. However, when these roles are unbalanced or coerced, they can lead to issues such as resentment or emotional distress. Thus, the negotiation of power within personal relationships is critical for maintaining healthy interactions.

I give you the reins,
A breath held tight.
My own will wanes,
In morning's light.

It feels like falling,
A dizzying drop.
My own voice calling,
Suddenly stops.

But in this surrender,
A strange peace grows.
I learn to remember,
What trust bestows.

No longer striving,
To hold every thread.
Instead, arriving,
Where fears are shed.

You guide me gently,
Through shadows deep.
And something presently,
Begins to sleep.

The need to control,
The constant fight.
My wounded soul,
Finds new, soft light.

In your strong hand,
I learn to rise.
On shifting sand,
Beneath your eyes.

She knew it was almost time for him to get home from work so she placed her collar and leash on and inserted her tail and waiting on her hands and knees at the door waiting for him. She heard his car as he pulled up her excitement grew as did the dampness between her legs. The door opened painfully slowly as she sat there with her leash clenched between her teeth she couldn't help but wag her ass and tail with excitement. She met his gaze as he entered the house she had been trained to wait for permission to move when he came home and she did just as she was trained. He smiled and softly praised her "Good girl" as he patted her head and then took the leash from her, to lead her into the living room. He sat down on the overstuffed sofa as she took off his shoes and socks and rubbed his feet for him. She smiled at the sight of her in her collar and the tail as it wagged excitedly. He instructed her to unzip his pants and to suck his cock until it was hard she did just as she was told without hesitation. As she sucked his cock she looked up into his eyes, without saying a word to her he gave her more praise and she could feel herself growing even more wet as it slowly leaked down her inner thigh. He took a handful of her hair to control her movement as he forced his cock into the back of her throat he could hear her gag slightly but he did not care. She was just his pet and he would do as he wished with her. Before he shot his load of cum into her waiting greedy mouth he stopped her. He smiled and said I have a suprise for you tonight my Pet. She looked at him both puzzled and excited what surprise could he have for me she thought. He lead her on all four to the bed room where he cage was that she slept in sometime when she had been bad (she secretly liked sleeping in the cage at times it made things feel more real to her) he walked her over to the bed and reaches under the bed and pulled out a couple boxes one larger box and one smaller. He asked her if she was curious about what was in the boxes she wimpered and nodded. He opened the small of the two boxes and it was a dildo unlike any she had seen before it was larger than she was use to. She looked at it puzzled as to what it was she looked at him and without saying a word she questioned as to what it was. He explained since she was his pet she should know what it was like to have a cock that would match her inside of her. She blushed when she realized it would be used on her. She glanced over at the larger box with a bit of nervousness and curiousity as to what would be in the bigger box she noticed it was heavier than the small box. He noticed the look on her face and asked would you like to know what is in that box? She blushed and wagged her tail a bit as she nodded yes. He opened it up and it was something they had talked about before but she never thought would have one. It was a machine that a dildo would be attached to and used to fuck her. She could feel her self gushing more with excitment at the thought of being restrained and fucked by this machine which would not get tired and would be fucked as long as he wanted her to be. He quickly fastened her ankles to a spreader bar and then placed one on her wrists as well then fastened the two bars together so she could not move. He placed a gag in her mouth in the shape of a bone then blindfolded her. Her sight now gone and her ability to speak taken away as well she grew more excited her mind raced what is he going to do, she could hear movement but could not see what was going on. She could feel movement behind her but was unable to move. Soon she could feel his large hands softly rub her now soaking wet pussy as he slid a finger inside she gasped. She could feel something behind her pressing at the opening of her pussy she knew it wasn't his finger this was larger. Soon what it was slowly pushed into her pussy as she struggled trying to gasp as it pushed deeper inside and seem to not stop. It was then she felt it grow in side as it pushed against the outside she knew in a flash what it was he was using the dildo to fuck her she struggled to push back onto it wanting more inside of her to feel like a bitch, a soft moan escaped her gagged lips. Soon it became all to clear he was not controling the dildo with his hand he had it on the machine and was slowly increasing the speed as the speed increased she struggled feeling as if she was going to be knocked over by the trusts of the cock deep inside of her waiting dog pussy. She moaned and begs as best as she could to give it all to her she wanted to feel it fill her up totally. She could feel the knot pressing and pushing in pressing on the thin skin between her pussy and her ass where she had a tail inserted with a plug on the end to keep it in place. This feeling grew until she was ready to lose her mind she felt like a true dog slut being used over and over as she came. She could not stop it as she had no ablity to speak or use her safeword (not that she would) the machine seem to drive home harder and harder. He told her I want you to count in your mind how many times you cum for me then when were done you tell me do you understand me? She nodded half in bliss and half just wanting this to never stop. She started counting in her mind it wasn't long until she lost count. After what seemed like forever being fucked and used by this machine she could feel it being pulled out as she whimpered and wined. She could feel his cock drive deep in replacing the machine as he grabbed her hips and thrust deep inside of her. He fucked her like she had never been fucked before it was not like a man would fuck a woman but more primal (almost animalistic) at one time right before he came he leaned over and softly growled in her ear and said in a deep husky voice this is my bitch and I will breed her myself and fill you full of my cum with that he thrust harder and faster as he shot his steaming hot load of cum in her well used aching pussy. He unfastened her and removed the blindfold and the gag. Now how many times did you cum? She blushed and replied I lost count. You lost count? Why did you lose count? It was the thought of being used and fucked like that it made my head swim and I was over come with the feeling. He smiled as he pulled her close and ordered her to clean his cock off with her mouth.