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For over a decade I have walked these deserts in silence, the part of me that once thrived in shadow lying dormant, patient. For years I withheld the hand that guides, the voice that commands, the fire that shapes. But such things do not die — they smolder, waiting. And now, the time of waiting is done.
I am a Dominant of a darker romance: not cruel, but inexorable; not careless, but consuming. I tend as much as I take, for devotion is forged in discipline as well as care.
I seek to gather a small stable of submissives — souls willing to surrender, to serve, to be tended and claimed. For those chosen, my home will be sanctuary until my departure from this city of fleeting lights. You may dwell freely under my roof for a span of three to six months, most likely six — a brief season, yet one meant to be lived fully.
This is not pastime nor plaything. It is a vow written in sand before the tide, a romance bound by the knowledge of its ending. If you feel the pull of it, step forward. The desert has kept my silence long enough.