There is a question that has been sitting heavy in My chest lately. It has begun to color the way I see this entire lifestyle I’ve devoted Myself to:
Does the kind of slave I seek even exist anymore?
I don’t ask this lightly. I don’t ponder it as a ‘what I want is so unique‘. I don’t write it as a passing doubt or a throwaway moment of cynicism. This is the kind of question that has been eating away at Me, eroding both My patience and My passion, leaving Me wondering if what I’m seeking is nothing more than a dream that doesn’t match the current reality of kink, submission, and service as it’s lived today.
So often, I meet “submissives” who tell Me they crave ownership, that they want to be slaves. They use the words. They latch onto the titles. They spin fantasies in which they are collared, guided, shaped, perhaps even consumed by the fire of soul changing submission. And yet, when faced with the reality of what that life means; the dedication, the service, the sustained hunger for growth, the relentless vexation that comes from being remade by another person, they falter.
They want a chance.
They want the title.
They want the romance of it.
But do they want the work?
I have yet to see it in the way I yearn for.
“Owner” is a word I hear tossed around so easily in our spaces, like a pretty garnish on a cocktail. It sounds delicious. It looks impressive. But it carries more weight, more demand, more responsibility than most are prepared for, both the one who holds it and the one who submits beneath it. For Me, it is not just a title. It is a covenant, a role that requires endless steadiness, patience, and appetite for guiding someone not just through pleasures but through the raw fires of personal growth. It means standing in the uncomfortableness of transformation and demanding the same.
For Me, to truly be owned is not about indulging fantasies. It is about being led, reshaped, challenged, stripped down, and rebuilt…not once, but continuously.
And still what I encounter are people who want to wear the collar without realizing that to Me, it is not jewelry, it is a responsibility. They ask for the privilege of slavehood, but when it comes time to embody it, they show Me hesitation where there should be hunger, excuses where there should be obedience, comfort-seeking where there should be courage.
This is where My frustration burns.
I hold Myself to the same standards I demand of others. I live this role, not just in scenes, not just in words, but in the steady application of My energy, My intuition, and My drive to craft a life of integrity and power. I do not ask for perfection, but I do require authenticity. For someone willing to stand in the same fires of trials, tribulations, and transformation that I stand in. For someone who sees slavery not as a game, not only as a title, but as a spiritually satisfying way of being, a path of service, surrender, and inner growth led by the hand of their Owner.
But perhaps I am asking too much.
I look at the current landscape of kink and wonder if My desires are out of step with the times. The conversations around Me feel shallow, transactional, and impatient. The relationships I see forming often dissolve when the sheen of novelty and NRE wears away, when the real grit of service and submission demands consistency. The community seems flooded with “role-players” rather than roleseekers. People who enjoy the performance of submission, but not the reality of surrender.
And here I am, caught in the gap between what I know to be possible and what I continually encounter.
Honestly, it breaks My heart, because I do not want to give up on this. This lifestyle has given Me exultation, purpose, connection, and moments of profound transcendence. But lately, I find Myself weary. Outwardly, I am fine. Inwardly, I am exhausted, burnt out, dismayed, and stifled. The flame that used to draw Me toward the search feels dimmer, and I wonder whether I am feeding it or smothering it by continuing to engage in ways that leave Me unfulfilled.
This reflection comes from the reality of one of My current dynamics.
When My Puppy entered our dynamic, it was with the expressed desire of wanting to be a “slave”. That was the language we used, the intention, and the framing at the time. But as we lived together, as time passed, the truth revealed itself. He moved from wanting to be a slave, to identifying more as a submissive. Now in recent years, more honestly, as a brat in a Female Led Relationship (FLR). Our path evolved differently than planned, and that has required us both to be honest with ourselves and each other. He is not slave material, and I do not have the desire to mold him into something he will never truly become. This is no more than I can be molded into a Pleasure Domme.
That honesty has been both painful and grounding. On one hand, there is fulfillment in our FLR marriage, in the laughter, in the daily kinship, in the comfort of being fully known and the rules, rituals, and protocols that still sustain us. There is joy in having a partner who sees Me, who accepts My dominance in the ways that align with who he is. In fact, I know there are submissives out there who would give everything to have what we share, to live in a 24/7 lifestyle with the bond we’ve built. And I do appreciate it deeply. But for Me, I still feel a lacking in the big picture of My Queendom. There is an element of depth, discipline, and spiritual service that remains unmet, and that is the piece I cannot ignore. It’s the piece that has been guiding Me for more than a decade.
As I have grown as a Dominant, My needs have shifted.
In the beginning, I was simply seeking something fun, an outlet for the weekends, and I didn’t even want to be called “Mistress.” Now, I will only answer to that title. It has become part of who I am, inseparable from My identity. And yet even that does not feel like the summit. I find Myself thirsting for the next ascension: to Ownership. That is why, even now, I will not collar My Puppy as I’ve shared before. I do not want to collar just anyone. No, I only want to collar those meant for Me. Those who feel like they were destined to crawl this path at My feet.
This ascension I speak of is not a sprint, it is a marathon. And yet, what I find is that most are barely suited for a walk at all! I have always been full of energy, naturally drawn toward personal projects, seeking self-improvement, new adventures, unique experiences, and the constant pursuit of growth in all areas. My hunger for life has always been expansive. Sadly, I find that many simply do not have the stamina to match Me. They are tired, sluggish, content to remain in the daily humdrum of their existences, unaware of what is transpiring beneath their own surface mentally/physically/emotionally, and unwilling to do more or become more. Even when their words initially promised potential, they settle back into mediocrity, never reaching for the heights they once claimed to seek together.
I cannot and will not, lower Myself into that same complacency.
As I grow older, I find Myself seeking a quiet maturity that seems rare. I crave someone who has a real zest for life and loves the unknown. An individual active in their slave duties and submission, someone who thinks of Me first and shapes their life around how they can improve Mine. That improvement might mean improving themselves for My benefit, seeking ways to bring Me ease or joy, even if it is something small and unnoticed, someone who is willing to put their body to the test for Me and offer their mind open for new ideas.
It is the subtle things: noticing when dust begins to collect in the corners of the Queendom they clean, recognizing when I seem stressed from work and offering calm presence rather than incessant distraction, folding and putting away the towels exactly how I have trained them and like them, knowing which massages make Me the most relaxed and giving them without being asked. These are not grand gestures. They are the thousand quiet details of devotion that add up to a life where I feel cherished, prioritized, and seen.
This is where I see true service.
Instead what I encounter are shallow, surface-level gestures. A sub might kneel prettily, but only when it’s convenient or performative while out at the club. If they’re too tired they ask if they can sit beside Me knowing the protocol calls for them to sit below Me. They call Me “Mistress” in the bedroom, but their behavior outside of it shows no consistency, no thoughtfulness, no sustained focus on My needs. They can’t wear symbols of their devotion even while talking on the phone to vanilla friends, giving in to irrational fears.
They want the aesthetic of submission without the discipline of it.
They will buy toys or write long, flowery messages (in the beginning) about their devotion, but they overlook the fact that My towels were folded carelessly, that I came home stressed with no relief offered, or that the daily details of My life go unseen. It begins to feel like roleplay. It begins to feel like a scene they step into and out of rather than a genuine interest in blossoming within the agreed-upon role of service and surrender, of consensual slavehood.
I keep running into those who lack the depth, focus, and ability to sustain attention to the details of My inner world and My needs. They become distracted, unable to look beyond themselves, while I remain clear-eyed, intentional, thoughtful, willing to pour in My time, My energy, MY resources, or whatever is required, all to help them grow. I know what I provide when I invest in someone: guidance, stability, wisdom, the opportunity for them to rise higher than they could alone.
So why am I left disappointed by those who cannot meet Me in that commitment?
Because they want the reward without the sacrifice, the collar without the responsibility.
Part of Me considers stepping into a more Leather lifestyle, seeking spaces where tradition, honor, and service still hold deeper weight. Another part of Me contemplates taking a long, silent, introspective break from it all. Just letting go of the search, at least for a time, to gather Myself without expectation. And then there is the most painful possibility: leaving kink altogether. Walking away from something that has motivated Me, nourished Me, and thrilled Me, because in its current form, it does not give Me what I seek.
And that thought devastates Me.
But I cannot deny that right now, as it presents itself in My life, kink does not excite Me. It does not move Me. It does not even interest Me save for some cherished online play. And that feels like a profound loss. It could be the state of the current world events, or just general malaise.
So I sit with these questions, letting them settle heavily on my shoulders:
- Am I asking too much?
- Is there still space in this world for the kind of Owner and slave dynamic I crave?
- Or have I been trying to fit a square sub into a round peg, bending Myself into disillusionment while expecting others to stretch into a shape they were never meant to hold?
I don’t know the answers yet.
What I do know is that I will not lower My standards. I will not stop expecting of others what I expect of Myself: authenticity, dedication, service, growth, and the courage to embrace disconcertments as the crucible of metamorphosis. If such a person exists, they will not be deterred by the demands I place upon them. They will welcome them, hungry for the chance to live as a slave in truth, not just in name.
Ultimately I am seeking someone who reads words like this and feels the pull in their chest, the recognition that these words speak to the life you secretly long for. I am seeking someone who has been searching for Me, as I have been searching for them. Not for fantasy. Not for performance. But for something unearthed, something delightfully demanding, and greedily gainful within.
If you are merely playing, if your submission is a costume you wear when it suits you, then this is not for you. Spare us serious folks the disappointment. But if your soul burns at the thought of surrender, if you crave the discipline, the structure, and the depth of what I believe is true slavery, then know this: I will not settle, and neither should you.
Because while I may question whether what I seek exists, I also know this: if I abandon that vision, I abandon Myself. And that, is something I refuse to do.