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WT--- mine is labeled 'Made in Canada'. So you can't buy local produce? Interesting concept to collect taxes on something you banned.. what a gymnastic of will and reason. Any loopholes? Like 'leather polishing/cleaning agent' - do not inhale, as it is labeled elsewhere?

We cannot even order them. The only company that would still ship them here was Double Scorpio, and the government shut them down.

Damn, you sound like the ultimate top

After Jacob becomes poz I hope the other scorpion boys can give him recharges

I would.

When it is part of the play, it is OK - slap my ass, maybe even face if clearly in a jest, grab me by neck, fuck me hard, but there is limit somewhere.. Usually my tops are quite careful when testing boundaries as they really don't want to experience what my muscle mass could do when genuinely felt threaten.. I'm not probably the sort of guy you're referring to - there is dormant werewolf in this puppy and they definitely sense that. Maybe this is what turns them on - they want to tame me. (Where is the fun in a game in which you always win no matter what?)

Oh fuck I really need fucked and bred. Reading that chapter has my ass quivering and hungry for hard raw dick

Wow. Would love to try this sometime

How many men (or people if you prefer) have you had sex with? Elaborate on your history if you’d like Me: somewhere between 1,500 and 2,000. I long ago lost track. I know I hit 29 by the time I graduated high school - mostly older men in their 20s and 30s. By the time I was 21 it was over 100. Again, mostly older than me. I worked in the sex industry in my 20s and early 30s, and figure it was 1000 men by 35. Yet again, mostly older although my increasing age meant an alley increasing proportion were younger than me. I’ve slowed down since then although I’ve sped way back up in the last year since I got on Prep. Cumdumping is fun!. I’m very into sex with new men. My long term romantic partner aside, I get bored of having sex with the same guy time after time and want to enjoy sex with new men. I’m never get tired of exploring men’s’ sexualities. I especially love virgins and inexperienced guys although that’s a tall order for me to find now. You?

@hntnhole and co, re: undocumented immigrant tasxes I hate bad data "out there." I think the Obama admin stopped reporting some of these details so they weren't politicized. There are two groups which estimate such taxes: Tax Policy Center (left leaning) and a more politically neutral group American Immigrant Council. They report combined employee, employer, and consumption (sales) taxes as $96b and $90b, respectively (latest). Of that, $15-$20 billion is federal income tax paid by employee. $35-$40 billion is federal payroll tax by employer (Social Security, Medicare,etc). The rest is state and local income tax and sales taxes. The issue is that income tax is so much lower than payroll as, overall across all workers, 88% comes from income tax. The later is mainly the 7%-ish (of income) to those listed social programs. The issue, and we don't know how much: how much are these low-income earners reasonably deducting to bring down income tax to low rates how many of the workers are simply not paying income tax while their employer submits the appropriate payroll tax Both occur. I don't think we'll be finding out soon.

I would like to do this one day. Want to try this. Looking if in Tampa

I want to be shamed like that but take all my clothes except my jeans it add to the shame

Actually never seen it live but I felt it being done to me (being terrifically high at the time helped). Also I’ve seen photo/video evidence and not the AI kind. As in all things, commitment is key.

The story you’re about to read is woven from the threads of my own experiences, though I’ve taken some creative liberties. It unfolds through the eyes of a young man seeking something deeper than fleeting moments of physical connection—a journey that echoes my own from years past under the tutelage of my Dom. As I navigated the crowded space, I was struck by the diversity of the crowd. There were those who exuded confidence, their presence commanding respect, and others who, like me, were newcomers, seeking guidance and understanding. It was a world where vulnerability was not a weakness but a strength, a badge of honor worn with pride. Here, i found not just a community, but a family. We are bound by trust, respect, and a shared understanding of the path we walk." Under his tutelage, I began to understand the nuances of the lifestyle. It was not just about the physical acts, but about the mental and emotional connection that made those acts meaningful. He taught me that dominance and submission were not about power, but about trust and surrender. It was a dance, a delicate balance where both partners were equal, their roles defined by mutual consent and understanding. As I delved deeper into the world, I realized that the BDSM lifestyle was a journey of self-discovery. It was a place where I could explore my desires, my fears, and my strengths. The community embraced me, offering support and guidance, their experiences a beacon in the dark. Through the lens of my journey, I hope to capture the essence of this world—a world where intimacy is not just physical, but a profound connection of the mind and soul. It is a place where vulnerability is celebrated, and trust is the foundation upon which everything is built. To those who are curious, I invite you to explore this world with an open mind and heart. It is a journey that can lead to profound self-discovery and connection. And to those who are already a part of this community, I hope my words resonate with your experiences and serve as a reminder of the beautiful bond we share. With gratitude and respect, I dedicate this story to Sir Evans, the Dom who guided me into this world. His mentorship was a gift, a beacon that illuminated my path and taught me the true meaning of discipline and community. Thank you, Sir Evans, for showing me the way. My Genesis, The Brotherhood Chapter 1 Tuesday, May 18, 1993, 7:17 PM They say curiosity killed the cat. For me, it didn’t kill—it reshaped me, pulling me into a world I never imagined. I was seventeen, trapped in the haze of a trigonometry final, my textbook a lifeless slab of numbers mocking me from the desk. I needed an escape, something to jolt me awake. So, like any restless, hormone-drunk suburban kid with a dial-up modem and a head full of dirty secrets, I slunk into AOL’s alt.binaries.m4m.personals.NY.LI—a gritty, pre-Craigslist underworld of raw desire. Most ads were the usual filth: blurry nudes, pathetic begging, or shady offers for quick cash. Then one hit me like a slap across the face. CONTROL — Want to take it, or have it taken from you? My heart pounded, my jeans tightening before my brain could catch up. I clicked, already half-lost. The ad was bold, unapologetic: >Do you know how to take control—or crave having it stripped away? Ever wonder why kink ignites something in you that you’re too afraid to name? You already know the answer. You just haven’t dared to speak it. >Verbal Dom Master seeks pledges for a brotherhood of men. You’ll be trained in bondage, dominance, sadism, masochism, and more. Confront the lies you tell yourself—the ones holding you back. Our mirror will show you your most raw truths, and by facing them, you’ll grow. You were meant to command your world, not shrink from it. >Let go. Trust yourself and your brothers. What awaits is beyond what you can grasp now. Once you begin, you won’t turn back—the truth you find will pull you forward. >This isn’t a fantasy. It’s a lifestyle for men ready to leave boyhood behind and embrace the responsibilities of manhood. >Reply with a paragraph about why this speaks to you—and a photo. I shared it with my friends. We were stunned, drawn in, our curiosity burning. This wasn’t just intriguing; it felt like a door to something deeper. Together, we sent a reply with a group photo and a short note about ourselves. The next day, a response arrived: Hello, young gentlemen. Congratulations on taking the first step. As you’re not yet of age for deeper discussion, I can only offer an outline for now. If you’d like, we can meet for coffee in a public place. After a few messages, we set a date. Sunday, May 23, 1993, 3:00 PM I arrived at the Bel-Aire Diner in Astoria, Queens NY, a lively, neutral spot. We met in the parking lot, as planned. He was tall, well-built, handsome, commanding, his presence heavy with quiet authority. “You may call me Sir,” he said, his voice steady. “Understand, boy?” “Yes, Sir,” I replied, my throat tight. Inside, the host greeted us with, “As requested, Sir,” and led us to a private booth in a quiet corner. Sir spoke first, cutting through the diner’s hum. “Let me outline things before you ask questions.” He described the initial training: obeying commands, standing at attention, speaking only when addressed, and understanding our place. We’d learn grooming, domestic skills—cleaning, bar tending, massaging, ironing, light cooking—and a code of honor, conduct, and behavior. “You’re not training to be a maid,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine. “You’re training to be a respectable, independent man who relies on no one.” Initiation would have to wait until my eighteenth birthday, for legal reasons. He handed me four binders, each divided into chapters with assignments. I couldn’t help asking, “What about fucking and that sort of stuff, sir?” He smiled, patiently. “I understand you're eager to fulfill your fantasies. But without this foundation, you’ll only chase fleeting moments. You contacted me because you want more—and this is the groundwork, boy.” We finished our coffees and parted. Afterwards, I met with the boys, showing them the binders. The tasks seemed manageable—some we already knew. We agreed to commit and start the lessons. Friday, June 25, 1993, 12:00 PM (My 18th Birthday) After a small family party—chocolate cake, presents, and my mom’s worried lecture about ticks at Mohonk State Park, where I said we were camping—my dad slipped me forty bucks with a look that said, “I know you're story is complete BS, go have fun.” They had no idea what we were really chasing. After a small birthday party with the family, accompanied by chocolate cake and some gifts. I start to pack up for the weekend. I told my parents that the guys and I were going camping at the Mohonk state park preserve. My mom, overly concerned about ticks, gives me a loving lecture and some deet. I promise her that we will check each other's bodies for ticks every night before bed. My dad quietly slipped me forty bucks and gave me that look that says, I know you're story is complete BS, go have fun. Little did they know what hijinks we were actually up to. By 2:45 PM, we reached the address. I knocked at the door, and Master greeted us, leading us inside to a mudroom. His voice was calm but firm. “Tonight is a big weekend for you boys. Tonight, you will begin to confront your fears and admit your desires. This will be done in the presence of others and you will be held to our standards. You will be tested and broken down in front of each other, and many other men.” He explained the hierarchy: everyone will be masked except him and us four. Only Master could speak to us at first, though four mentoring Dom's would later share equal authority, followed by other ranks outlined in the binders. “All orders will be obeyed,” he said. “When you're ready, simply take your shoes off and wait inside the living room, until someone comes for you.” We sat on the couch, nerves buzzing. A young man, masked and wearing only a collar with an Alpha symbol, gestured for us to follow. He led us to a large room, dark and smoky, lit by dim red lights, like a massive converted garage. Naked men stood in a semicircle, their masked faces unreadable. A spotlight in the center of the room snapped on. “Faggots, stand in the light,” Master commanded. We stepped into the glare, exposed. “Faggots, take off all of your clothing and put them into the marked bags. The bags are labeled 'faggot' and our last names.” Master addressed me first. “Faggot bindel, announce your name and why you are here.” My voice unsteady. “My name is dietrich bindel and I am a faggot. I came here seeking, discipline, training, mentoring, and respect Sir.” danny, harry, and arthur followed, their voices echoing mine. Master approached me. “Faggot bindel, are you ready to submit yourself to my authority?” “Sir, yes, Sir,” I replied. “Kneel and repeat after me.” I knelt, reciting: “I, dieterich bindel, fully offer myself to you without hesitation, reservation, or limit for your personal use and/or entertainment. I will obey every command from you without refusal until you release me of my pledge of obligation.” A collar tightened around my neck, slightly restrictive, a constant reminder of my choice, and my place. He repeated the ritual with the others. (What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into?) Master ordered, “Faggot bindel, you will slowly parade yourself around the circle of your brothers on all fours like a dog three times. Properly display yourself for us to see.” I crawled, voice nervous, but clear: “My name is Faggot bindel, and I am a worthless faggot. I seek discipline, training, mentoring, and respect.” I repeat this over and over until my three laps are completed, my words steadied with each recital. I then returned to my spot, and watched the others follow my example. A light flashed, illuminating an area, and two curtains are drawn revealing four dildos attached to the wall, each labeled with our last names. “Go to your individual station, and show us how you suck cock faggots,” Master said. Still on our knees, we obeyed, making our way over to our designated spots and begin to suck on the dildos. Moments later, I hear a clap and four men approached, and force us to go down further. I gagged, throat burning, phlegm pooling. I try to push back, but the man controlling my head pushes me even harder. Master’s voice cut through: “Resistance is cowardice. What did you come here for, faggots?” Choking, we tried: “I seek discipline, training, mentoring, and respect, sir.” The words were muffled, strained. Master claps again and I can hear four other men approach us. Then a small brown bottle was held to my nostril, the other pinched. “Breathe deeply, faggots,” Master said. I inhaled, my head spinning, a warm rush flooding me. Somehow, the dildo became easier, the force diminishes to a gentle suggestion. Another inhale, and I leaned into it, craving the sensation. Clap. “Faggots, turn around one hundred and eighty degrees.” As we begin another light snaps on, and I can see a camera on a tripod gleaming under new light. “What do all faggots crave?” Master asked. I froze, dizzy. A whip stung my ass, and all the men shouted, “Faggots crave cock, sir.” Instinctively, I moved my ass against the dildo and began to fuck myself. The bottle is then applied to me again, and pleasure surged. “Who are you and what are you looking for?” Holy shit this feels amazing as the rhythm of my lust is taking over. “My name is Faggot bindel, and I am a worthless faggot. I seek discipline, training, mentoring, and respect, sir,” Master says louder faggots as you fuck your faggot holes. I said, voice rising. “MY NAME IS FAGGOT BINDEL, AND I AM A WORTHLESS FAGGOT. I SEEK DISCIPLINE, TRAINING, MENTORING, AND RESPECT, SIR!” I moved faster, lost in the act, my body alive with need. With that bottle being reapplied to my nose and me repeating the words. My ass completely opens up and I really begin to fuck myself like some cheap whore. Back and forth, over and over again. I feel mindless, cheap and degraded. God my cock is rock fucking hard. Clap. Four more men approach and place another dildo in front of each of us. “What do faggots crave?” The boys and I all shout out “FAGGOTS CRAVE COCK SIR” and we all instinctively suck those dildos as we fuck ourselves. My God I feel like such a slut. Caught in the rhythm the room joined a unified chant: “FAGGOTS CRAVE COCK, SIR.” We kept going until Master roared, “ENOUGH!” Silence fell, but we four were too caught up to stop. A sharp slap stilled me. “Mentors, collect your faggots,” Master said. A masked Mentor clipped a leash to my collar, walking me outside to a fire pit surrounded by an expansive lawn. The cool night air brushed my sweat-soaked skin, the fire’s glow casting shadows on the masked men around us. Cicadas hummed, mixing with the crackle of flames. My Mentor, his presence firm, placed his hand on my shoulder. danny, harry, and arthur were placed nearby, each with their own Mentor, leashes taut. The fire warmed our bare skin, whip marks faintly visible. The men chanted, “Faggots crave cock, sir,” the words weaving through the night, stirring my nerves. The chant swelled, then stopped, leaving silence. Master’s voice rang out. “Faggots, you’re here to face your deepest desires and confront your fears. This weekend, you’ll be pushed to your limits, tested in ways you never imagined. You’ll embrace your true self and find strength in your submission.” His gaze held us. “This weekend, you’ll be initiated into our brotherhood—marked, claimed, forever changed. Are you ready to accept this path, to embrace the faggot you are destined to be?” The question settled over us. I looked at my friends, their eyes reflecting my own mix of fear and anticipation. We nodded, committing to whatever lay ahead. Master smiled, calm and knowing. He clapped. “Then let the initiation begin.” He turned, heading back to the house, leaving us by the fire, our anticipation growing in the flickering light. End of chapter 1

And, AND‼️, if we had universal healthcare as a government program... I hope all supporters of this realize Donald Trump would be running it with RFK, Jr as his number 2, as HHS sec (if that's still the dept name). Like the filibuster argument, it really is careful what you wish for. And, unlike the Post Office, there's nowhere near enough in revenue streams to keep such a program operating during a shutdown forever.

I love sticking my dick in a hole I can barely feel gripping me. Can't get enough puffy cunts

@Pozzible I really want to push on this point and then I'll drop it, the "figured out a way to do it." That's not true. I'll take my secondary point first. Economic freedom and mobility. In all European countries salaries for doctors and nurses are regulated. There's no way to make your own financial progress in society -- you can't find a new employer to compete for a better salary. Due to this issue, for example, in Germany, 50% of native Germans trained in Germany as doctors no longer practice in the country after 10 years - this is an average example Europe. 10% to 15% burn-out (average). But ~25% have left for reasons of economic mobility and freedom, coming to the US, East Asian, or Middle East markets to get a competitive salary. In the US, for reference, 75%+ of US born/trained doctors still practice in the US after 10 years with similar burn-out levels. Now this would be OK if it weren't for the primary issue, the wages being paid. As implied in the German doctor example, wages are relatively low for doctors compared to the developed world and cost-of-living. As noted yesterday, doctors in Norway take a 40% hit in (regulated) salary relative to the US (non-regulated) salary. But the worst is the nurses. Here is a EuroNews article -- a couple years back -- re: Nurse wages in Europe. [think before following links] https://www.euronews.com/next/2023/12/14/nurses-salaries-across-europe-which-countries-have-the-highest-and-lowest-wages Nurses are poorly paid across Europe and regulated to be so. Excluding Luxembourg -- do to very high cost of living issues -- The US would be the highest on that list at over 80k Euros/yr salary (average of specialized and non-specialized). Side note: This gets back to the Commonwealth Fund report you referenced, @Pozzible, where the US was 10th out 10 of developed countries. They don't include economic mobility nor salary level variables. If those four variables were included with the other 10 in their data, the US would be top 5 overall. But back to nurses, in the UK it's so bad nurses are paid just above poverty at 41k Euros/$45k US per yr -- just over half of what US nurses make. So my point: in order to get this ideological universal healthcare program working, doctors and nurses have effectively been told, "your lose." As such, these should not be consider programs which "have been figured out." It's far from that. For myself, I don't accept -- as fair collateral damage -- poor wages for care providers (esp. nurses). In a free society, people should have economic freedom. At least, they should not be told they're near worthless -- like nurses in the UK. The last thing I'd ask you to reconsider when saying these programs "work" is the backdrop of racism in all of this. Native (white) populations in these countries no longer take these positions in (relatively) large portion -- due to low wages. These countries are stressed and bring in foreign workers to fill positions -- usually of darker skin -- at these low wages. This makes it easier for them to ignore the salary problem while plodding along. Systemic racism is not a conservative thing alone.