Under The Whip

This is the BDSM Scene Consent Form for High-Risk Scenes that I personally use. I rely on it before engaging in any type of edge play, intense impact, medical or breath play, psychological scenes, or anything that carries a significant risk of physical, emotional, or psychological harm. It helps me ensure that all negotiations are clear, that safety and consent are prioritized, and that everyone involved feels respected, informed, and empowered.

PARTICIPANT INFORMATION
Dominant/Top Name:
Submissive/Bottom Name:
Scene Date:
Scene Location:

INFORMED CONSENT DECLARATION
☐ I understand the nature of the high risk activities proposed in this scene.
☐ I am entering into this scene of my own free will and under no coercion.
☐ I affirm that I am mentally and emotionally capable of giving informed consent.
☐ I understand I may revoke my consent at any time, for any reason.

TYPE OF HIGH-RISK PLAY INVOLVED
(Check all that apply)
☐ Breath Play / Erotic Asphyxiation
☐ Knife Play / Cutting
☐ Blood Play / Needles / Medical Play
☐ Fire Play
☐ Electro Play (e.g., Violet Wand, TENS)
☐ Psychological Edge Play (Fear, Degradation, CNC Themes)
☐ Heavy Impact / Whipping
☐ Bondage (Rope/Metal/Enclosure/Immobilization)
☐ Temperature Play (Ice/Wax/Extreme Heat)
☐ Sensory Deprivation
☐ Anal Play or Fisting
☐ Humiliation / Mindfuck / Emotional Play
☐ Other (Specify):

LIMITS AND BOUNDARIES
Hard Limits (Absolutely NO):

Soft Limits (Negotiate with caution):

Triggers or Trauma to Avoid:

Medical Conditions / Allergies / Safety Considerations:

SAFEWORDS & NON VERBAL SIGNALS
Safeword (to stop scene completely):
Slowdown Word (to pause or check in):
Nonverbal Signal (if gagged or unable to speak):
☐ Tap hand 3 times
☐ Drop object
☐ Snap fingers
☐ Other:

AFTERCARE PLAN
Aftercare Needs (physical/emotional):
☐ Water/Snacks
☐ Quiet time
☐ Warm blanket
☐ Cuddles
☐ Verbal reassurance
☐ Debriefing/Processing
☐ Other:

Duration Needed:

Anything to Avoid After Scene:
 

NEGOTIATION NOTES (Scene Outline)
Describe the planned scene in reasonable detail:

Include: agreed intensity, words/phrases to avoid, intentions, power dynamic themes, props used, tools/toys involved, public/private setting, and duration.

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY
Top’s Emergency Contact Name & Number:

Bottom’s Emergency Contact Name & Number:

First Aid Kit Available:
☐ Yes
☐ No

Phone Charged & Nearby:
☐ Yes
☐ No---
SIGNATURES & AGREEMENT
By signing below, we affirm that we have openly discussed this scene, understand all associated risks, and voluntarily consent to engage in it together. We agree to stop or adjust the scene if consent is revoked or safety is compromised.

Dominant/Top Signature: Date:
Submissive/Bottom Signature:
Date:

This document does not replace communication, intuition, or responsibility. We always follow RACK, or PRICK.

I’m beyond excited, tonight, I made a dream come true. I officially launched my submissive support group for S-types. This has been on my heart for so long, and I can’t wait to watch it grow into something truly meaningful, not just for me, but for every S-type who feels called to be part of it.

“What does ‘being good’ mean to you, and where did that definition come from?”

That question caught me off guard. Not because I don’t have an answer, but because I have so many. And because, for me, that question reaches deep into a tangled web of childhood memories, cultural messages, and spiritual confusion.

My earliest ideas of what it meant to be “good” were planted by my parents. Like many of us, I was raised with the understanding that good behavior was not just encouraged, it was expected. Being “good” meant being quiet, obedient, helpful, kind, and above all, not causing trouble. Any deviation from this standard came with disapproval, correction, or even punishment. “Good” was what made me lovable. “Bad” meant I had somehow failed.

Then came church. And not just one tradition, but two. One parent was Catholic. The other, Pentecostal Christian. If you know anything about either tradition, you might already be sensing the whiplash. The quiet, structured reverence of the Catholic Mass clashed with the emotionally charged, often fear based messages of Pentecostal services. In both spaces, though in different ways, I was taught that I was born with sin. That my thoughts could condemn me. That being "good" wasn't just about behavior. It was about purity, obedience to doctrine, and a very specific kind of femininity that left no room for exploration or doubt.

Layered on top of this spiritual confusion was childhood trauma, experiences that broke trust, reshaped my nervous system, and left me questioning if I was ever truly “good” enough to be loved unconditionally. I carried that confusion into adulthood, into my relationships, and into the way I saw myself as a submissive.

In the world of kink, especially as a submissive, the words “good girl” carry powerful meaning. They can be affirming, nurturing, even erotic. For me personally, being called a “good girl” by my Masters is not triggering. In fact, it brings me comfort. I like knowing that they are proud of me, that I’ve pleased them, that I’ve honored my service with care and intention. I try incredibly hard to be obedient and attentive. The praise reinforces the connection we share, it feels earned, not demanded.

But I also understand why those words can be incredibly painful for others. For someone still healing from religious trauma or emotionally abusive dynamics, the binary of “good” and “bad” can feel like a trap. It can bring back memories of shame, fear, or unworthiness. And that’s why, in power exchange relationships or any relationship rooted in deep vulnerability, self awareness is so important.

I don’t believe in a rigid divide between good and bad, or good and evil. I think all of us are capable of both at the same time. Life is far more nuanced than the moral absolutes we were taught as children. What matters more than being “good” by someone else’s standards is being true, to your own values, your integrity, your healing.

One of the ways I protect myself now is by being very intentional with language. I keep a list of words and phrases that are hard limits for me. Not because I want to control every interaction, but because I want to protect the progress I’ve made. Words matter. They carry history. And being proactive about what language feels safe, or not safe, for me is a form of self respect and communication I take seriously.

So when someone asks me, “What does being good mean to you?” my answer is this. Being good used to mean pleasing others at any cost. Now, being good means honoring who I am, being accountable in my relationships, and doing the hard work of healing, without sacrificing my truth just to fit into someone else's definition.

And that? That feels pretty damn good.

There’s something I’ve learned the hard way: emotional death is contagious. Especially when you’re already doing the heavy lifting of maintaining your own relationship. It is a quiet, creeping kind of erosion that starts when you surround yourself with people whose relationships are falling apart, or have already crumbled into dust.

Now, don’t get me wrong, this isn’t about judgment. I’ve got nothing but compassion for those navigating the pain of breakups, divorces, and the emotional wreckage that follows. But I’ve noticed something unsettling over the years. When my inner circle is filled with people constantly mourning their relationships, it becomes dangerously easy for me to start questioning my own.

We’re social creatures. We connect through shared experience, and when someone we care about is hurting, we want to relate, to comfort, to understand. But in doing that, there’s a subtle shift. You start focusing on the cracks in your own dynamic, even the ones that were never really there to begin with. You start mentally matching your relationship up against theirs, Are we doomed too? Are we missing something?

Suddenly, their emotional grief becomes a mirror, and it reflects back doubts you weren’t even harboring until the conversation started. This is why I’ve had to be really honest with myself: it is incredibly difficult for me to maintain close relationships with single people, especially those freshly untethered from commitment, because their energy, their focus, and their emotional bandwidth are just in a completely different place than mine.

The truth is, I have no desire to romanticize what life was like when I was single. That chapter closed for a reason. I don’t want to be tempted to miss it, or worse, imagine I’m missing out on something. And while I will always support my friends in crisis, I’ve had to create boundaries. Because when you’re constantly immersed in other people’s relationship failures, it is hard not to let that seep into your own sacred space.

That’s why I’m HUGE on accountability.

When a friend’s relationship ends, I don’t rush to comfort them by bashing their ex or speculating how unfair it all was. I want to ask real, reflective questions.

What was your part in it?

What didn’t you nurture?

Where did things break down, and what can you learn from that?

Not because I’m cold or unsupportive, but because I genuinely believe growth starts with ownership. If we can shift the conversation to what needs healing within ourselves, it stops being about how awful someone else was, and starts being about how to grow from the pain. That, to me, is empowering.

It also protects my relationship from becoming collateral damage. Because it is dangerously easy to get stuck in a spiral of “what my partner is doing wrong” when you’re constantly around people dissecting the failures of their own relationships. That energy spreads. It sticks to you. It whispers insecurity when you were feeling fine five minutes ago.

Of course, there are non negotiables, abuse in any form, be it physical, emotional, or psychological, is never something anyone should stay for. In those cases, walking away is not just healthy, it is necessary, and I’ll always hold space for a friend in that kind of need.

But the boundary still stands,
You can talk to me about your relationship falling apart, but do not drag my relationship into the mess.My dynamic is mine. My challenges are unique to us. They don’t need to be compared, matched, or measured against someone else’s. It is not a competition, and it never should be.

Emotional contagion is real, and if I’m going to stay grounded, accountable, and present in my relationship, I have to be mindful of the emotional environments I walk into. That’s not selfish, that’s self preservation. And it is one of the greatest acts of love I can give to the people I’m building something real with.

Take a photo of a favorite spot you've been on a date.

(Sadly I cannot upload the image, but I do have it.)

One of the most swoon worthy, heart melting dates my Master Damon ever planned for me? Oh honey, let me tell you. It started with him flashing that mischievous smile and telling me to get in the car, then, boom, blindfold on. I was giggling and blushing already. He drove around forever (or at least it felt like forever), even though I know the lake is literally two minutes away. Classic Damon, always the dramatics.

Eventually, the car stopped, and he helped me out like a total gentleman. Then, ta-da!, the blindfold came off. And oh my stars… literally. The night sky was sparkling, the lake shimmered in the moonlight, and the only sounds were the flutter of bats overhead and the teeny chirps of baby alligators. (Yes, chirping alligators are apparently a thing, and they are adorable.)

Then, as if my heart wasn’t already doing somersaults, he pulled out his speaker, hit play on a playlist he’d made just for us, and wrapped his arms around me. We slow danced under the stars like we were the only two people in the world, just kissing, laughing, talking about everything and nothing for hours.

It was magic. Pure, beautiful, Master Damon style romance. And to this day, it is one of my favorite memories with him, the kind you replay in your head with a goofy smile and a full heart.

How do you manage trust in a multi-partner dynamic?

In a world where monogamy is the norm, navigating a multi partner dynamic can seem like juggling flaming swords while blindfolded. (Spoiler alert: it is not.) But I won’t sugarcoat it, building and maintaining trust in a poly or non monogamous relationship takes work. The kind of work that requires presence, intention, vulnerability, and a whole lot of love. So how do we do it?

Communication. Like, Constantly.

We talk a lot. And not just when something’s wrong or bubbling up. We make space for swift, intentional communication when feelings start to arise. Sadness? We talk about it. Insecurity? We talk about it. Jealousy? Yep, we talk about that too.

We don’t let emotions simmer in the background like a passive aggressive crockpot. We bring it up, gently and honestly. That alone has saved us from spiraling a hundred times over.

Reassurance and Understanding Are Part of the Job

We don’t wait for our partners to ask for reassurance. We offer it freely and with open hearts. We validate one another. We take time to understand where each other is coming from. That simple “I see you, I hear you” can make all the difference in a wobbly moment.

Radical Transparency

Here’s the kicker, we’re open Like really open. We share passwords, we give access, we willingly hand over information because, why not? We have nothing to hide. This isn’t about control. It is about a deep, mutual trust that says, “I trust you with all of me.” We’re not snooping, we’re not policing each other’s lives. We just exist in a space where transparency feels safer than secrecy.

I’ll be blunt, if someone is shouting that this kind of transparency is “controlling,” they might just be hiding something. I said what I said.

Creating Safe Spaces for Honesty

Being vulnerable is scary. But it is also the most magical part of being in love. We strive to create safety for each other, to say the hard things, to admit when we’re scared or confused or unsure. Do we get it right all the time? No. We’re human. Sometimes we falter. Sometimes things get heated. But we come back to the table, over and over, because we believe each other is worth it.

No Emotional Cheating Allowed

Emotional cheating is real. Like, real real. And it is not about sex. It is about secrecy, about investing intimacy elsewhere without communication or consent. We don’t do that. If feelings develop or change, we talk. If needs shift, we talk. No one is left in the dark, wondering or doubting. We’ve built this dynamic on honesty, and we protect it fiercely.

We Work With Each Other, Not Against Each Other

Conflict happens. But instead of attacking each other, we’re learning to work together. We remind ourselves that it is not me vs. you, it is us vs. the problem. That shift in mindset has changed everything. Look, this kind of love isn’t for everyone. But for us? It is sacred. It is messy, and complex, and wild, and it is the most honest kind of love I’ve ever known. We’re not perfect, and we don’t pretend to be. But we’re showing up, day after day, with open hearts and a willingness to grow. And that? That’s what trust looks like to me.

Last night, there was a conversation among friends that was meant to be lighthearted and funny. The kind that catches you off guard and makes people laugh. They were playing a game called "Hear Me Out Cake," where you put characters you find oddly attractive (even cartoon ones) on a cake and jokingly say, “But hear me out…” It is not really my kind of humor, especially since I don’t feel that way about cartoon characters, but I listened and stayed present.

Then something unexpected happened. My Master, Damon, mentioned Quasimodo. He said he found the character endearing because he was emotionally wounded, misunderstood, and someone who loved deeply, even the unlovable. And then, he added, “Why do you think I have the partners I have?”

In that moment, my heart sank.

Those words cut in a way I don’t think he intended, but the impact was still real. I know I have my challenges, like anyone. I live with a disability, I navigate mental health with strength and resilience. But I am not broken. I am not a cause to be pitied. I am not someone’s burden or charity project. I am a whole person with depth, beauty, fire, softness, and so much love to give.

His comment led to a small argument, not a blowout, but charged with emotion. There was a lot of backtracking as he tried to explain himself and clarify what he meant. And I do believe he didn’t intend to cause harm.

But the truth is, intention doesn’t erase impact.

It still hurts. I feel heartbroken. I feel raw. And while I love Damon deeply, while I long to serve him with passion and devotion, right now I need space. Because healing sometimes means honoring the pain without rushing to fix it.

This experience has reminded me just how important our words are. How vital it is to slow down, to reflect, and to speak with intention, especially with those we love. I’ve made my own share of mistakes in this area, too. I’m not perfect. I know what it feels like to say the wrong thing and regret it deeply.

Do I know Damon loves me? Yes, I do.

Do I believe he loves me because I’m “damaged”? No, I don’t.
Right now I’m hurting. But I know I’ll heal. This pain won’t last forever. I will move forward. And in doing so, I’ll establish a new boundary, one that honors my worth and my wholeness.

I am not my diagnosis. I am not my struggle.

I am not broken. I am not less.

I am deeply loved, not for what I can offer, or because someone pities me, but simply because

I am. I have chosen family who see me, cherish me, and hold space for all of who I am.

So, to the world. Be mindful. You don’t need to censor your humor or your heart. But speak with care. Speak with presence. Because sometimes, the words we toss out casually can land in someone’s heart like a stone. And love, real love, asks us to be conscious of that.

From the heart of a devoted slave who believes in doing the work.

Have you noticed how quick people are to walk away from relationships nowadays? Like one little bump in the road, and suddenly it is block, delete, on to the next one sliding into the DMs. It is like our culture is obsessed with this “Thank You, Next” mindset, as if partners are disposable, relationships are replaceable, and effort is optional.

And I can’t help but ask, "whatever happened to building something real? To finding someone compatible and choosing yes, choosing to grow together?"

Let me be clear: relationships are hard. Vanilla ones are already work. But relationships in the BDSM world? They’re deeper. They’re more intense. We aren't just talking about “what’s your favorite color” here. We’re talking about power exchange, discipline, trust on the deepest levels. That kind of connection doesn’t just happen overnight.

Yet, I see it time and time again. One disagreement, one unmet expectation, one awkward conversation and boom, it is over. No discussion. No accountability. Just another dynamic thrown away like last week’s trending meme. And honestly? That’s heartbreaking. Not just because of the relationship itself, but because it creates a habit. A pattern of avoiding growth, avoiding work, avoiding the sometimes messy, but beautiful process of becoming better together.

What’s worse is that this mindset has even crept into our therapy sessions. I’ve sat there, vulnerable and hurting, only to be told, “Maybe it is time to leave.” Excuse me? That’s it? No unpacking the layers? No accountability? Just… leave? That advice might help someone in a toxic, unsafe situation, but it doesn’t help me learn how to navigate a tough but salvageable one. It doesn’t teach me how to love deeper, communicate better, or serve with more clarity and strength.

Now, let me pause here and say this loud and clear.

If you’re in an abusive relationship, physical, mental, emotional, get out.

If your boundaries are being ignored or violated, get out.

If your partner disrespects you continuously after being told to stop, get out.

No one, I repeat, no one deserves to be harmed or diminished, regardless of your role in the dynamic. Your safety, dignity, and consent come first. Always.

But if the relationship isn’t abusive,  If the struggle is around communication styles, feeling unseen, struggling with consistency, transparency, or how you’re showing up for one another, then friend, it is time to lean in, not check out.

Real, lasting dynamics take time. They take intention. They take uncomfortable conversations, deep self reflection, and a commitment to being an active participant in what you're building.

As a slave, it is my honor and duty to serve, but it is also my responsibility to reflect. If the dynamic is faltering, I have to ask,

Am I communicating clearly and honestly?

Am I giving space for my Dominant’s growth, too?

Am I showing up in alignment with the values of the house I serve?

And most importantly, am I being accountable for my part?

Because here’s the truth: If we don’t take ownership of our behavior, if we keep running at the first sign of discomfort, we carry our unhealed wounds right into the next relationship. And then we wonder why it fails too.

It is time to stop the merry go round of failed dynamics. Step off the ride. Ground yourself. Polish the connection you have. If it is safe and worthy, and nurture it. That is where true growth lives.

There is no “perfect” partner or flawless relationship. But with honesty, patience, and a shared desire to grow, even the hardest moments can become stepping stones instead of breaking points.

So no, I don’t want a “Thank You, Next” love. I want a “Thank You, Let’s Work Through This Together” kind of dynamic. One built on trust, grit, and mutual devotion.  Because those are the relationships that shine. And that’s the dynamic I choose to serve in, heart first, collar proud.

Sometimes in a Power Exchange dynamic, especially if you’ve given your heart, body, mind, time, and service with devotion. It can feel like there’s no "you" outside of the relationship. But there is. That part of you has never left. She may be tired, she may be quiet, but she’s still in there. And she’s worthy of being seen, supported, and loved, not just as a kajira or a submissive, but as you.

Reclaiming Yourself Within (or Beyond) the Relationship
Here’s what I’d like you to consider, and you don’t need to answer this right away. Just let it sit with you:

Who are you outside of service?

Outside of my submissive service, I’m a whole whirlwind of passion, playfulness, and purpose. I’m a painter who sees the world in color even on the cloudiest days, a writer and poet who spins emotions into words, and an author with stories just begging to be told. A retired dancer and jock with enough sass and muscle memory to still drop it low (carefully!), I now pour my energy into educating, streaming on Twitch, and lighting fires of curiosity in others. Especially when it comes to history, science, or a juicy true crime mystery.

I’m the reliable, ride or die friend, the lover who shows up with wine, cake, and a wicked grin, and the unapologetically loud, laugh until you snort Gemini who never holds back an opinion (even when I probably should). I'm proudly blind and disabled, but don’t mistake that for fragile, my strength roars. I’m a loudmouth activist, a lover of my country and military, an uplifter of underdogs, and a fierce believer in chosen family. At the end of the day, I’m just someone wildly in love with life, chasing joy in all its messy, magical forms. So yes, I might serve, but never forget, I also sparkle.

What lights you up that has nothing to do with being owned?

What lights me up, completely separate from being owned? Oh, so many things! Creating, whether I’m painting, writing, or baking something dangerously delicious, always fills me with joy. I absolutely light up when I’m connecting with others, hyping up a friend, throwing a cozy dinner party, or streaming and chatting with my community. I geek out over true crime, get lost in history documentaries, and yes, I’ll 100% stop everything for a really good cake (and maybe a glass of wine to match). I love being loud, laughing until I wheeze, and diving into meaningful conversations that linger in your soul. Just being present, passionate, and playful in the world? That’s my spark.

What used to make you feel alive, joyful, beautiful, expressive? Even if it has been a long time?

What used to make me feel alive, joyful, and utterly me? Oh, where do I start? Give me a dirt bike, a bow, or a pair of dancing shoes and suddenly I’m grinning like a kid in a candy store. I used to come alive racing through trails, riding my horses with the wind in my hair, or getting mud splattered playing paintball. Sports, martial arts, fishing, and shooting gave me an edge, a thrill, a fire in my chest, and let’s not forget how roleplay and community service let my creativity and heart shine all at once.

But it wasn’t just the wild and adventurous that made me feel beautiful and expressive, it was the sparkle of getting my hair and nails done, the rhythm of singing my heart out, the warm magic of friendly dinner parties, the art of baking something decadent, or capturing a perfect photo. Even school lit me up. I loved learning. And yes, always, my submissive service brought a deep, soulful joy that rooted me in connection and purpose. Whether I was serving, laughing, creating, or covered in mud, those moments reminded me I’m not just living, I’m alive.

Journaling prompt (if you feel ready).

If I could create a sanctuary for myself, just mine, it would include?

If I could create a sanctuary just for me, it would be this dreamy fusion of softness, soul, and submission. Picture a warm, inviting space filled with books, art supplies, and the scent of fresh baked treats wafting through the air. There’d be a cozy chair for reading and writing poetry, a streaming nook to connect with my people, and gentle music dancing in the background. My wine and cake stash? Hidden but sacred. Sunlight would pour through wide windows overlooking nature, and the ocean, my reminder to breathe and be.

But this sanctuary would also hold the quiet, sacred heat of my submissive heart. In one corner, a velvet lined chest filled with cuffs, collars, floggers, and tools of service, each item carefully chosen, deeply meaningful. A small kneeling cushion waits beside it, not as an object of restraint, but as a symbol of devotion. Maybe a journal where I write letters to my Masters or record rituals, reflections, and acts of service. There’s a hook on the wall for my collar when I’m in reflection, and a soft blanket nearby for post scene aftercare. This is a space where I can feel safe and surrendered, creative and claimed. Where my submission and my self expression aren’t separate but beautifully, unapologetically intertwined.

Navigating the Cracks in the Relationship

If you feel like your M/s dynamic is dying, that’s a deeply painful place to be. But pain doesn't always mean failure. It might mean there’s been neglect, unmet needs, or misalignment. Let’s name a few possibilities and see what fits.

Questions to ask yourself:

Do I feel heard when I express my needs, or do they go ignored?

When I express my needs, I don’t believe I’m being ignored, and that matters. I truly don’t think it’s ever out of malice or disregard. More often than not, I know the people in my life are juggling a lot, and sometimes my needs don’t make it to the top of the list because they’re overwhelmed, sick, stressed, or focused on things they believe are more urgent in that moment. I can understand that, and I do my best to be patient and supportive when life gets chaotic.

That said, even with that understanding, there are still times I don’t feel heard. Not because I think anyone is trying to shut me out, but because acknowledgment without follow through can still feel like silence. I don’t need every need met instantly, but a sense that my words truly landed, that my feelings are seen and held, would go a long way. Sometimes, I just want to know I matter even in the mess.

Is the dynamic still active, or has it become one sided?

Our dynamic is still active, and that means so much to me, but I’ll admit, there are times it feels a little one sided, especially when my needs go unmet for weeks at a time. I’m doing my best to stay compassionate, to hold space for everything they’re dealing with, disabilities, illness, work, family, it is a lot, and I don’t for a second believe they’re being unkind or careless. Life gets heavy, and I respect that. But even with all that understanding, it is still hard. Sometimes, just existing in the dynamic isn’t enough; sometimes I need my needs to be seen and tended to, not out of obligation, but so I can feel valued, connected, and truly held. I don’t need perfection, just presence.

Am I being treated with structure, care, and attention, or just expected to perform while feeling invisible?

I truly believe both of my Masters are incredibly caring and deeply attuned to me as a person. They show up in very real ways, helping with my food, medical needs, and overall wellbeing, and I never question that they love me or want what’s best for me. There is structure in our dynamic, and we even have a daily routine that helps ground me. But sometimes that structure feels a bit shaky, lacking the consistency that makes me feel fully anchored in my role. I know they’re balancing so much, and I try to meet that with patience and understanding.

That said, there are times I feel a bit invisible. Often, they’re not aware of what I’m working on or what tasks I’ve completed. It is not that I need constant praise or micromanagement, but when no one notices what I’m doing, it can feel like I’m just going through the motions on my own. That lack of attention, even if unintentional, chips away at the sense of connection I crave in our power exchange. I don’t want to just perform, I want to feel seen, held, and woven into something shared.

Important truth:

Even in consensual slavery, your emotional and physical well being still matter. A Master is responsible for the stewardship of what’s entrusted to them, and that includes your heart and your needs. If you are giving and not receiving anything sustaining in return, that is an imbalance, not obedience.

Steps You Can Take to Begin Reclaiming Power and Clarity

1. Create a self devotion ritual (even 5 minutes daily)

Light a candle, touch your own heart, and say aloud.

I am still here. I am still worthy. My soul is not owned, only offered.

2. Define what you need in the relationship to feel safe and seen.

Regular check ins
Clear rituals or tasks
Emotional validation
Being listened to, not just obeying
Presence
Emotional Availability
Consistency In Structure
Space to be vulnerable
I things I do to actually matter

You are not losing yourself.
You are remembering yourself.

Where My Heart Feels Safest

There is a kind of peace I can’t quite explain, a serenity that washes over me the moment I feel Their command settle into my bones. It is in those moments, when my Masters take control, not with soft suggestions or gentle requests, but with clear, unyielding Dominance. That I feel safest, most whole, and utterly seen.

I am a slave girl. Owned, loved, guided, and claimed by not one, but two extraordinary Masters. And every breath I take, every thought I have, orbits around one singular truth. I exist to serve Them. To be shaped by Them. To surrender myself so completely that there is no space left for doubt, fear, or the exhausting weight of everyday decisions. Only Their will, and my joy in obeying it.

It is not the illusion of freedom that sets me free, it is the structure They provide. The firm tone in Their voice. The intensity in Their gaze. The way they expect excellence from me, and never let me settle for mediocrity, even when I’m tempted to coast. They challenge me to grow, to strive, to stretch beyond my limits, not just as a slave, but as a woman. They hold me accountable, They push me, They demand truth, consistency, and self respect. And through it all, I blossom.

There is no deeper love than the kind that dares to take full responsibility for your soul’s evolution. And that’s what my Masters have done. They don’t just love me, they shape me.

When They command me, truly command me, I feel the depth of Their protection, the clarity of Their expectations, and the weight of Their ownership. And I crave that weight. I need it. I thrive in it. It silences the noise of the world and reminds me exactly who I am, Theirs.

I don’t want to be asked, I want to be told. Not because I’m weak, but because I am strong in my surrender. Because nothing makes me feel more grounded, more radiant, more alive, than submitting to Their will and knowing I am exactly where I belong.

My love for my Masters is beyond devotion. It is a fire that consumes and purifies. I wake up every day with the singular purpose of pleasing Them, of making Their lives brighter, lighter, more beautiful through my obedience and service. That is where I find meaning. That is where I find myself.

To be guided. To be molded. To be possessed. That is my joy. That is my purpose. That is my love.

And in Their hands, under Their command, I am finally free.