This weekend changed me.
She flew across states to kneel at my feet for the first time — not because I demanded it, but because she chose it. With intention. With reverence. With everything she is.
And in that act, I didn’t just take control — I was called into it. She gave herself to me with a kind of honesty that can’t be faked. Every ritual, every rule followed without hesitation, every offering of obedience — it all pulled something out of me I didn’t know was waiting to lead.
We’re not dabbling. We’re not exploring. We’re in it.
This is a protocol driven, power-exchange dynamic rooted in love, trust, discipline, and yes — fierce devotion.
She is mine. Fully.
And I am hers — not owned, but chosen.
I don't carry her. I hold her.
And she doesn't just serve me — she elevates me.
There was laughter, intensity, deep surrender, and moments so tender they caught me off guard. There were conversations that revealed more than either of us expected, and silence that said even more. There was pain, beauty, structure, affection, and complete commitment.
And when the weekend ended…
I didn’t just miss her body — I missed her presence. Her protocols echo in my space even now. Her scent still clings to the collar she wore for me. And my heart has not stopped saying yes since the moment she arrived.
This is not casual.
This is not light.
This is not play.
This is ownership.
This is service.
This is love.
And I am all in.