Ds Relationship Quotes

Bottoming doesn't make you a submissive any more than standing in my kitchen makes you a cook. By the way, while you’re there, please make me a sandwich.

A Dom never takes away. He only builds.

My new and improved Golden Rule: Dom unto others as you would have God Dom unto you.

Aren't you ready to experience the emotional side of a D/s relationship? For a real taste I suggest On Becoming His - one woman's emotional journey into being owned.

The Warrior Princess Submissive herself may be uncertain of her own submissive nature, so it is entirely understandable that the Dominant seeking to woo her might be somewhat tentative, himself. If the Dominant has even the tiniest iota of doubt about his own dominance or his D/s relationship skills, he is doomed. He will be eaten alive, and not in a good way.

I want a real relationship, one without intimacy issues; without trust issues, but with all my emotional baggage, I don't know if that's possible.

When the mere act of being in a D/s relationship or engaging in BDSM activities reaches a societal tipping point where it is no longer simply socially unacceptable, it becomes borderline criminal, an amazing thing will begin to happen. Some Warrior Princess Submissives will drop their stealth cloaks and step out of the shadows to defend the lifestyle and the Dominants that they love. They will do this, despite their intense fears and despite a whole host of other very real hardships that will ensue because they are, above all else, loyal to their Dominants. They will do it because they are righteous crusaders who aren't afraid to fight the good fight, no matter how unpopular or untenable their positions might seem. They will do it because they are the only ones who can.

Definitively categorizing oneself as a switch (or as anything, really) should only be done after accumulating considerable experience in the lifestyle, getting at least a few deep and lasting D/s relationships under your belt, and after a great deal of reflection and self-exploration. Adopting the label of a “Switch” should never be the result of a “default” classification for those who are simply unsure about their D/s orientation.

In this chapter, we’ll be exploring the connection between D/s and religion, and discussing any significance that the link might have for you.

Selfishness is an essential ingredient of lasting happiness. Happiness begins and ends with you, not with your relationship, not with your job, not with money, but with “YOU” Happiness is your responsibility, no one else’s.

He had a firm rule when it came to relationships, what little experience he had of any that lasted over a month. When it’s over, it’s over. You should never go back.

A relationship—even a D/s one—is two people growing stronger together than they would apart. Not one tree standing alone with another leaning on it.

When you go to a job interview, nobody is really interested in your background, but on what you can actually do and how committed you are in applying disciple and self-control to learn, improve your results, and improve the relationships and communication inside the company where you work. Therefore, having a PhD but no capacity to empathize or work on new methodologies means nothing, which is why so many people with PhDs work as supermarket cashiers and bartenders, or can't even find a job. Prepare your Curriculum in such a way that anyone can see in the front page all the things you have done and studied on your own, and add to the information the topics you actually studied and can apply. Your employer doesn't care if you went to university for it or learned from a laptop while in pajamas during a Sunday morning. He cares about what you can do to improve his results. If he raises your salary after you make him rich, great, and if not, you can use that opportunity as leverage to a better opportunity with a much higher salary. But always remember that, as an employee, your purpose is not to get a salary but to make your boss rich. The salary is a bonus you get from that intention. If you want to become rich yourself, you have to start your own company and work as many hours as your boss did and employ people who aren't willing to make you rich because they only care about their own salary, people who in many cases have diplomas but can't do anything useful. You will be surprised with how many useless people there are in the world, which is why interviews can last weeks and months before someone is selected for a position.

Respect is key to any D/s relationship, as is trust from both sides.

She had been manipulated and misused before, and she found that it clouded her every relationship. Every judgement she made of people was tainted with the idea that they may want to hurt her in some way.

sexual partners, she was either lying, or she’d had it for over a year. But Oliver’s chart didn’t show any symptoms and he hadn’t been prescribed.  Jamie mulled it over in her head then acted on a hunch, pulling open the top right-hand drawer. Inside was a wholesale box of condoms. She stared at it for a second. At least they were using protection. She wondered how many Mary gave out a week. Maybe there had been a third person in their relationship. A scorned ex-boyfriend who didn’t like Oliver? He obviously didn’t know about the rash — or hadn’t noticed. Grace was keeping it from him. Had he found out, confronted Grace’s other boyfriend? Or maybe the other way around. Surprised by the guy? Taken? Tied up and threatened? She had a feeling that the person hadn’t meant to kill him. If you’re going to kill someone, you don’t take their shoes and then dump them in a river. He’d either fallen in accidentally, or he’d jumped. Either way, if there wasn’t an ex — or not ex boyfriend — he was going to be someone Jamie wanted to speak to.  She held Grace’s picture up, looking past the matted hair and sunken eyes. She was young, pretty. She’d have a lot of attention out there on the streets.  Jamie closed the drawer and looked at the file again, searching for a name. She wanted to speak to the doctor. The signature just looked like a wavy line. She’d ask Mary. The chair squeaked as she pushed back from the desk and stood up, keeping the files in hand. Her watch told her it was nearly nine-thirty. Her stomach told her it was time for breakfast. Back in the main room, some of the people had cleared out, venturing back into the city. Looking for some way to get by.  Roper was still talking to Mary, who appeared to be in the middle of a speech about how these people needed more help than anyone was prepared to give, and that Oliver wouldn’t been the last. Jamie stepped around her, piqued. ‘Why do you say that?’ ‘Oh,’ she said, seeing Jamie. ‘Because people don’t want to help them and they let them hurt themselves and each other without paying them any mind.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Each other? Did someone have a problem with Oliver?’ ‘What?’ Mary looked sheepish all of a sudden, as if she’d dropped someone in something. ‘No, no — nothing like that. Not as far as I know, anyway,’ she added quickly. ‘Look, I just want you to find who did this — but for you to know that things are different with them. They don’t act the same — don’t believe in the same things, you know?’ She kept her voice low now. Jamie nodded. She’d worked the streets long enough to know what Mary meant. She’d seen more than she could have ever imagined. Seen people do crazy things. Things that people with something to lose would never think to do.  ‘Mrs Cartwright,’ she said after a second. ‘Grace Melver. She was friends with Oliver?’ ‘Grace?’ Mary’s eyes lit up a little and then tilted down in sadness. ‘What a sweet girl. She’ll be devastated. She’s been back every day to check whether Oliver has turned up. She’s been going out of her mind. Poor girl.’ ‘What was the nature of their relationship?’ Roper held his phone a little higher so the microphone could pick them up more easily. Mary thought for a second, aware of the recording. She chose her words carefully. ‘They were together, I suppose. As much as two people in their situation could be. They looked out for each other. Loved each other.’ ‘Did Grace have any other boyfriends?’ ‘No, no. She was sweet. She loved Oliver.’ ‘She was a heroin user, right?’ Mary looked like her face was about to droop and slip right off her head. ‘Horrible stuff. Though they

Roper was sulking. He didn’t like this case and it was getting worse for him by the minute.  They had no solid leads and the one person they needed to speak to the most hadn’t been seen since before Oliver’s body was found. With what they knew so far, there was a good chance that someone else was involved in their relationship, and when you factored in the drugs, the azithromycin, and what Reggie had said about their supposedly new tent, things were starting to get muddy.  They needed to speak to Grace and find out exactly what was going on, and they needed to do it fast.  The longer time went on, the less likely they were to find a fresh lead. The longer there was for evidence to get destroyed or misplaced. The longer there was for people to shore up their stories. The longer there was for people to forget exactly what had happened. Time was getting thin, and their investigation was hanging on the testimony of a heroin-addicted teenager who may or may not be missing herself.  It’s what Jamie’s father would have called a shit-clap. The image was explanatory enough.  They kept a good pace through the streets, opting to walk rather than drive, retracing the route that Ollie and Grace would have taken every day to get to the shelter.  They caught up with and passed several nomads trekking back from lunch towards their nests, but none of them were Grace, or prepared to tell them whether Grace was there.  Maybe they didn’t know, or maybe they just didn’t want to help. The homeless and the police had a frosty relationship to put it mildly. Putting it more succinctly, neither liked the other.

Some looked anxious, others scared. And some looked angry, baring their teeth in indignant snarls. ‘You coming?’ Jamie called back up, stepping sideways down the slope in a flood of pebbles. Roper bit his lip, his fingers twitching at his sides as he decided. With an annoyed grunt he followed her, the stone dust caking his black Chelsea boots and turning them grey. ‘Times like this I wished we were carrying,’ he muttered as he got near. Jamie wasn’t sure if it was to her or not. Sure, sometimes it would pay to carry a gun. But she didn’t think that going in there armed was going to yield any positive results. If they didn’t like the police before, increasing the likelihood that they were going to have a pistol shoved in their face wasn’t going to do anything for the relationship. ‘Don’t worry,’ Jamie said back as they levelled out onto the bottom of the line, crushing syringes under their feet. ‘If anything goes wrong I’ll protect you.’ He wasn’t amused and strode forward quickly, keen to get in and out as quickly as he could. Jamie didn’t share his blanket dislike for the homeless, but as they drew closer, she realised just how many people were packed into the little oasis under the bridge, and that among those half-hidden faces, peering out from darkened doorways and from under shadowing hoods, there might have been someone who wasn’t afraid to kill.  Someone who might have done it already. And someone who wouldn’t think twice about doing it again. They could be stepping into the front room of a murderer that didn’t feel like getting caught today and would do whatever it took to make sure they didn’t. But as far as she could see, they didn’t really have any other choice.