borrowed thoughts

i have been rather quiet recently. Blog-wise. Since becoming owned my thoughts surrounding slavery have certainly not become more infrequent, quite the opposite, but they have come to be focussed around my Owner.

While the opportunity to serve Him is helping me understand more about myself as a slave, the core of what is happening with me these days is centred around Him. This means that all of my inner thoughts in this regard don't feel like they are mine to disclose anymore. They take place inside my head but they are on loan to me from Him.

i think i will need to resolve this conundrum if i am to continue developing this blog

owned

Over the weekend, i have become owned.

it has happened in an unexpected and unplanned way. i had been holding off meeting anyone until sunday when i was due to meet a prospective new owner. But then, on saturday night, a message turned into a chat, turned into an improvised meet at 4.40 in the morning that i arrived too early for.

i wasn't supposed to stay for very long but i shortly started hoping that He wouldn't ask me to leave. And He didn't until the next day.

In hindsight i realise that someone might argue that it was a little risky to go to a stranger's flat in the middle of the night and let myself be put in a condition where i could have literally done nothing to defend myself had He turned out to be, say, a serial killer. But from chatting with Him i just felt complete trust in Him. I guess it's more than a little risky to have such blind faith in one's instincts but the scary truth is the thought that i might be in danger never even crossed my mind.

Ironically my body is fighting that which my heart has been craving. i was unwell for most of the day yesterday and now seem to have developed a minor rash around my neck where the collar was.

i look forward to my body catching up with the rest of me.

fallen offline

i miss the time of the casual chats with L. i knew him very little back then. i was interested in him, he seemed interested in me. There was this whole unexplored potential ahead. We hadn't done anything about it yet but it was there and it was real as a possibility. There was playfulness and flirting and it was exciting. I was excited every time i would get a message from him.

Now all that potential has disappeared. The possibilities have been replaced by the certainty that the road i have taken has walked me straight into a cul-de-sac. No exit and no future.

Yes, i have taken my antidepressants last night

#010: responsibility

We talked of my difficulties with letting go of L. My need for him and the possible reasons behind his sudden change of interest (sudden, yes, but 18 months ago, i know, it's a little pathetic). She insists on the idea that a Master has power without responsibility, something i'm not so convinced about, and the fact that L got involved with me on a more personal level made him take on some form of responsibility and therefore lose the ability to see me as a slave.

#009: confrontation

Nothing much to report. We discussed that fact that i had felt her hostile during the previous session.

the mole and the mud

today i had "minor surgery", as the doc called it. Just a mole that one day decided he wanted to be something else and started a journey of self transformation. Because everybody i know seems to get cancer (not in my age group but left and right in my family and the families of my friends) i thought i'd part ways with my growing mole and let him continue his process of mutation somewhere else.

Today is also the day i got contacted for the 3rd time by someone whose profile i have read online many times. Over and over. He's the sort of person, or the sort of profile, i should say, since i don't know him, that usually gets me to think i should make the move across the ocean. The sort of person, though, that i wouldn't normally have contacted. Out of fear, awe, respect. i can't find the right word. In his profile he comes across as a very strong-willed, no-bullshit sort of person. The sort of person that i wouldn't disturbe with a message. Someone you don't bother for a chat but who makes you stand at attention if he decides to contact you.

His past messages were to ask if i was ever in NYC, where he lives, but this time he's here in London. i had fantasised before about a possible visit of his to London and being offered the possibility to serve him in his hotel room. Only he doesn't want me to serve him in his hotel room. He wants to mess me up in the Heath.

i don't normally do one-offs. i'm the sort of slave who craves the protection and security of having a man in charge of me. Not really the sort of slave who goes off to meet some random guy in a park tonight and someone else tomorrow. That sort of approach requires much more mental independence than i have. But if a man like that calls me i have to go and serve him and try to please him. i don't know why. i just feel that i have to. i don't just need to suck a cock, any cock. Alright, i might have got into one of those moods once or twice but normally, if i'm trying to serve a man, i want him to ultimately feel pleased, to know that i'll work around what he likes so that he is satisfied in the end and will feel that the time he's spent on me was worth it. i want him to know that it's important for me that he feel satisfied with the way he's being served. I realise it might sound a bit unsexy to put it in those terms but this is, i think, the root (or near the root) of my desire to serve. That's why i don't like being asked "do you like this?" while i'm serving somebody. It gets me all confused. I don't know anymore what i'm doing and why i'm doing it.

i am currently actually on hold until sunday when i'm due to meet a Master who'll assess me and decide whether he wishes to have me as his slave. This week i've declined offers from other dominant men who wanted to offer me the chance to serve them because, as i've mentioned before, i don't like to juggle. if i've agreed to meet a master i don't want to call and say, sorry but this other master came up so i'm not available anymore. i must say this approach doesn't usually pay off because at times you end up waiting for ever and often you never meet the person who claimed to want to meet you. So i'm getting in the habit of predetermining the shelf-life of my premature devotion. But i do still wait.

In this case, though, it's different. he's an out-of-towner and i'm not auditioning to be his slave, just serving someone who wants to be served. But of course he messaged me 10 mins before i was due to go for my minor surgery and i suspect that rolling in the mud in Hampstead Heath is not what the doc had in mind when he said i should keep the wound clean and dry.

So any encounter is delayed by a couple of days and takes us to saturday, just before my audition. It annoys me that the mole and the mud had to come at the same time. But if the mud is not yet here, the mole is gone now. The last time i saw him, he was swimming in some clear solution on his way to a testing lab. He was looking kind of lost without me. Oh, also kind of gross

the puzzle, i.e. stolen words

At times i feel i really must try and put down in writing the whole L story to try and make sense of it. It's all a big random blur in my head of remembering and forgetting, bits of conversations pop up in my head all the time and i keep trying to fit them in the big puzzle but when i add one piece it pushes out 3 more and the puzzle is never complete. In fact, i'm starting to fear that the pieces i have come from different puzzles. There's just no way to get the them to fit together.

today's piece is from January.

[REMOVED]

I've been thinking about these posts since first uploading them and i felt bad. Like i was betraying him by posting his words, like i'm trying to prove he's done something bad to me, like he's tried to deliberately confuse me.

Ultimately i'll probably never figure out what exactly happened but i have no right to post words that are his. It's stupid. Like i'm framing him or trying to make him look bad.

I truly truly wanted to live only to love and please this man. All i can do is try and still show him some respect.

tube touch

the northern line is playing funny these days. There have been problems for a long time and there continue to be. Every morning i have to force my way into a carriage overloaded with commuters. So little space to move, the air is laden with the breath and smells of so many people. Experiencing closeness in such confined space is generally an unpleasant experience but at times being pressed against somebody is not as bad as it sounds.

Like the other day. This man, so close to me, i could smell his skin, inhale his breath, see the little hairs on the back of his neck, feel the warmth coming from his body move into mine through our limited surface of contact. i could imagine what he's like, what his voice must sound like.

Deep under the ground, you come close to someone only to lose them to the crowds in the space of one stop.

anon69

A long time ago i came across this webpage. It's a mock-advert (i imagine) from the Fez Pleasure House looking for pleasure boys to serve customers. Serving boys have to undergo surgery to be castrated and for their dicks to be reduced in size. I think this story awakened my interest in chastity and, to a limited extent, castration. The idea of losing this desire to seek out my own sexual pleasure, step out of the rat race, complete the transition from subject to object, be taken in hand and become a tool to exclusively serve and please my owner are all instilled in this one symbolic act.

i think of this sometimes when i undress before going to bed and see the reflection of my body. i see my dick and feel that i would want it to be smaller and insignificant. i would want to work on everything else that makes up my body to make an owner want to have me but neglect and deny that one part of me.

At the time i found this story i was simply trying to figure out to what extent i was going to want to explore this side of me. My relationship with my bf was not open and i had an online Master.

Online masters now to me seem a bit pointless but i can honestly say that - maybe because i never saw Him - He was as near perfect as you can get. The interaction with Him is what defined Him. He brought light into my days and i did long for Him and wanted to please Him so badly. He understood me. There are many things you can fake online but this you can't. And He understood me.

He wasn't so impressed with my castration fantasy but he did like to keep me chaste for weeks at a time. I remember my balls hurting going to uni and knowing that even thousands of miles away (He was in the States) He was behind the pain and discomfort i was feeling and i felt happy to be able to offer this small homage to Him. Once He wrote to me on Christmas day telling me that He was happy with the progress i was making. That email was the best Christmas present for me.

Unfortunately in time things changed. i became frustrated because He wanted more and more from me and i felt unable to please Him. His requests were starting to be invasive of my boyfriend's privacy or required me to do things behind his back. And i couldn't do it. i once confessed to Him that part of me wished He would grow tired of me and not contact me anymore so that i wouldn't have to feel that i was being such a failure in trying to please Him.

After writing that i never heard from Him again. I tried again to make contact with him many times since then but his email was no longer active and, just like that, one very important presence in my life had vanished in the vastness of the internet.

hungry

Sometimes i'm hungry. Starving. i really need food. I don't know exactly what i want, i know that i'll know the moment i see it. i won't eat just anything. So i go from shop to shop looking at what they sell. And one look is enough. It can take a very long time but it's the only way. For me.

#008: understand

A terrible session. I left feeling very annoyed with her. I'm starting to sense she's not going to understand what i'm trying to tell her at all. She tells me things like: a slave hates his master. And she's not budging. Her point is that my relationship is the real thing i should worry about and the M/s desire is nothing but a fantasy. idealised and impossible. I realise it's a fantasy at this stage, but so is the perfect vanilla relationship when you want one and don't have it. I feel like she's trying to superimpose her moral values on my life and that's really the last thing i need from her. Through all the annoying stuff i've realised that one of my main needs is to be understood. Understood and accepted. That's probably why i have this blog, why i'm seeking a Master who gets me, why i tried so hard with L when, with the things he said, it all seemed like a big misunderstanding.

#007: protection

i know i said i wouldn't do these posts anymore but (see 008) i'm doing them anyway for now. It was a great session. I left feeling that i had made some breakthrough in analysing my desire to be a slave. The need to be small, protected, almost like a child. A child who is happy in the moment because there are no worries and no tomorrow to fear. >>

caged inside

today i went to fettered pleasures with a friend who needs to buy a chastity device to fit on his slave. i generally don't consider myself a gear person but there was so much in that store that was calling out to me. Leather and iron. The smell of the leather, the weight of the iron, cold and inescapable.

Above all, in the middle of one room, a cage. Low and solid. I squatted to have a proper look at it and looking at the space inside i felt this overwhelming desire to occupy that space, to be kept safe and isolated where nothing can reach me and i can finally let go and relax. The desire was so strong that it moved me, i literally felt it swell inside of my torso and for a moment i thought i was going to cry.

I would love to just sleep in there, be in peace, close my eyes having finally left all the stress outside. Inside the cage nothing can reach me.

waterside

That i should be made to feel like an alcoholic in this country where my weekly alcohol intake draws bemused looks even from my doctor is something i would have normally thought of as highly unlikely. And yet it's exactly what happened today at the Barbican Centre when i was told, at the Waterside Cafe, that alcohol could only be purchased as part of a meal and that if all i wanted was a drink i should use the bar in the foyer instead.

Now, that i should be subjected to such haughty remarks in a place where you carry your own tray is something i would have thought of as being even less likely than being made to feel like an alcoholic here in the UK. And yet, again, it's exactly what happened today at the Barbican Centre.

But as i was coming out of the Araki exhibition, having chosen to enjoy, rather than escape, the solitary simplicity of my own company, i had to offer myself one precious moment. When you're choosing to appreciate the closeness of such a loyal companion, you must stop to celebrate the moment. And after being faced with a few too many vaginas at the exhibition, i felt like a needed to give myself some quiet time. But since quitting smoking, precious moments are no longer imbued in the fragrant smell of tobacco so, sitting by the water on a nice evening like this, on such a clear october day, i must offer myself a drink. A drink and a song.

So the air was turning crisp, the water was flowing and in this quintessentially London place the drink was in my hand and the song, one of my L anthems, Nina Simone's Wild is the Wind, was playing in my earphones.

dream: the shoe

this morning i wake up. As i'm getting out of bed I stare vacantly at the space around me. Suddenly i remember. A dream. All my eyes can see is black leather. A shoe. I'm licking it clean. Long wet strokes as i try to do a good job for the man who's wearing it. I remember waking up after the dream in the middle of the night. I remember feeling the urge. How i remember all this? Next to my bed, looking up at me from the floor, one lonely shoe. I had got up. Taken it from the wardrobe. But the shoe was empty and uninteresting. Cold, even. I went back to my dream. I did lick it once though. Briefly. Just for the sake of it.

chain of fool

ups and downs. constantly ups and downs. During the darker months of my depression i had left myself go because i didn't have the energy to look after myself anymore. I smoked for a whole year, i stopped going to the gym, i ate badly, i avoided my friends, i just slept, as much as i could, any time i could. i had become a vegetable, i carried on but i felt drained of all happiness, all energy, and i couldn't see a way out. i oscillated between feeling low and feeling completely lost with this fluid pain squeezing the centre of my stomach and leaving me no peace. i had thought many times of putting an end to things. I don't think i ever thought i would actually go through with it but it was the only thought that, in its immense sadness, could delineate some sort of a way out of all that.

Now it feels good to know that i'm on my way up and out of all that. I'm rising up in a helicopter and what i've left behind appears smaller and smaller down below. i'm still not happy and positive but i'm afraid i've never been that way so i should stick to obtainable goals. i have, after many attempts, managed, i think, to quit smoking. it's now been over 3 months since my last cigarette. The therapy is something that i've wanted to do for many years and is finally here. Things are happening around me and i don't fail to point them out to myself as a form of encouragement to continue on this road.

i might actually be in the process of starting up once again with my gym routine. It's still very early to speak but i'm feeling optimistic and i don't want to limit myself with regards to my hopes. But even that, i'm not yet at the stage where i can do it for myself. I see that as taking care of a body i would like to offer to a Master and i would like it to be something i can offer without shame.

Last night i did something silly. i have given myself a treat. I don't normally do this sort of things because... well, it's silly. But i thought why not and i let myself go to bed with a chain padlocked around my neck. it's just a fantasy thing and it doesn't mean that much to me really. Think of it as a security blanket, if you will. I fixed one end of the chain to one of the legs of my bed and the other was around my neck. I slept like that, turning in my bed feeling the metal on my skin, hearing the tinkling of one ring over the other, then moving in my bed and feeling the chain limit my freedom of movement. Happy to be held. Dreaming of being kept.

It hasn't meant that much really. It's been a bit of a fantasy, a game. i simply let some of my inside spill out onto my outside. Every now and then, i need to allow myself a treat.

out of reach

I'm resisting the need to call. It's like quitting smoking (which i have, by the way) and having a cigarette in my pocket (which i haven't, by the way). The phone's right here and his voice 5 keys away.

my 50s

Recently i have been looking at the idea of being a slave in a new light. Certain situations where i end up feeling hurt bring me to question this longing. Is the desire to put someone ahead of me really a consequence of thinking lowly of myself or simply a desire to please someone else. Why such a desire to please someone else? Why is the notion of simply going after my own sexual pleasure so unappealing from me? Why such a desire for acceptance, for being thought of as valuable property? Why should someone else be more important than me? Why would their orgasm be more important than my own?

These are the questions going around my head most of the time. At times i say to myself that for me it is not about sex at others i'm a little more self-critical and think that maybe i'm flattering myself with delusions of depth and it's really all about sex, even if a non-sexual or negative sexuality.

What i know is that in some way being a slave defines me. During my first preliminary session with my therapist, i nut-shelled the story of L and how i'd been ready to drop out of most things going on in my life to be with him and serve him. She said "you must have felt very lonely to consider throwing everything away on the basis of a sexual preference". Two things struck me about her words. The most obvious that i had felt very lonely. The second, more subtle, didn't seem so important, yet hit me right away. The fact that i was willing to throw everything away on the basis of a sexual preference. Obviously, it appears, i don't think of it as merely a sexual preference

During my trip to china i met guys who are gay and go through their lives never coming out to their families and friends. You don't need to go all that far, even here in the UK there are people who never come to terms with being gay, or rather they never come out, never acknowledging it as a part of them. They don't think much of it and lead an apparently straight life. Kind of like what i imagine people would have done in the 50s. It's not really a question of pretending, i think, probably a good number of them don't think it defines them to the point that they have to make an issue of it with a big coming out. So they don't, maybe they get married, they might chat online and have gay sex occasionally but ultimately for them gay is not what they are, it's what they do, or rather who they do. the only space for any gayness to come out is in the bedroom, and possibly not their own. Hard core gay activists will probably tell you they're in denial, they can't face being gay. but is that so? Or do we see gayness where there is nothing to see?

Well, gayness definitely exists. Whether it existed before we realised it did is a different matter altogether.

So which is it? is it identity or sexual behaviour. i welcome opposed opinions but i think the gay identity as we perceive it today is pretty much a product of our time and our culture. Does a gay identity even exist, or do we simply think it exists? personally i have internalised the idea that being gay is a part of my personality, i don't see it as the main part of it but it's certainly there and i make a point of not hiding it whilst at the same time not forcing it on people. i won't let people assume i am straight if it seems they're going that way, i won't be vague about whom i'm going to see in China if and when they ask, but i won't, say, fight for gay rights in the work place, i'll simply expect there not to be any discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation because... i guess i don't see why there would have to be.

I think that this approach does some good to the gay cause because it allows it to get treated it as it should be treated: as a non issue. By denying it, you make an issue of it for yourself and by stressing it you make an issue of it with other people. I'm just gay. Big deal.

Now, to come to issues more appropriate for this blog, the sexual behaviour vs personal identity debate can be transferred, as is, onto the slave/master platform. And it fits very nicely, too. i will definitely find it inappropriate to mention at work that i'm a slave. i would consider it discussing my sexlife in a context where it doesn't belong. But this inappropriateness might also disguise the fact that i'm simply ashamed of it, that i fear the way people would react to this. Maybe i'm once again choosing not to make an issue of it or i'm relegating it to the "sexual preference" category.

In a way being a slave really is a bit like being a gay man in the 50's. you will not discuss it with people outside a specific circle because you will normally see it as an element of your personal life that's inappropriate to disclose to just anybody. You might decide not to let it be a predominant element in your life, it's something you do on the side of your socially more acceptable vanilla-gay relationship.

Maybe it's a matter of where you draw the line between sex and self. But talking of lines implies that these two categories come in contact somewhere and are different degrees on the same scale, like there is an evolution from one stage to the other. Who we are as people and where we are as a society can be defined in terms of whether you classify a BDSM slave identity as a sexual preference or a character trait. i'm male, next i'm gay, next i'm a slave. Or, if you believe a slave's "slaveness" has an even more profound effect on his life than his sexual orientation, it could be slave then male and gay.

i'd certainly be very bad at making the case for M/s identity to be acceptable as an appropriate topic when discussing someone's personality. Oh, he's a funny guy, warm, outgoing, and makes a great doormat. but that's because i'm generally quite bad at selling anything. i never try to explain or convince people of anything. to give you an example, i'm a very convinced, satisfied and extremist mac user. i actually feel queasy when confronted with a windows machine but i will not, as many of my fellow macphiles, get into a fight to defend the power of the apple. maybe because i'm a submissive and i will not try to enforce my point on anyone else.

in the same way i'm also not going to convince people that there's a lot more to being a slave or a master than meets the eye. if they don't understand it, if they don't know it, i have no interest in explaining it to them. I'm not a prophet, a preacher or an evangelist. and i don't see it as my mission to spread the message to anybody. Maybe it's arrogant of me: assuming that they wouldn't understand but i'm not really willing to fight this battle. Not now.

But does this not mean that i'm living in that exact same situation as a gay man in the 50s. Am i not saying that the world is not ready to hear this? The line is still on sexual orientation and so i'm on private mode. And if i find it sad that a gay person should feel it inappropriate to disclose his gayness to the world isn't it equally sad that it should be inappropriate to be a slave?

i have recently been exchanging emails with someone who's been telling me things that are refreshingly new to me. Specifically he has been telling me some real shocking stuff. He says that being a slave is a great thing to be. Well, i guess i was surprised to hear that and even more surprised at experiencing my own surprise. It appears that i'm a self-hating slave, living in my own 50s wasting time feeling guilt and shame about not being the predatorial sort of fellow i feel that i should be.

The lesson is that i should embrace being who i am instead of trying to forcibly conform to roles that i don't fit in. This will not suddenly change everything for me. This not being hollywood, i guess it will take a bit of time for me to take this all in and maybe one day experience the liberal 60s.

#006: mistake

after discussing my therapy reporting, it appears it may not be such a great idea after all, on 2 accounts. (1) my attempt to keep a log in order not to forget what has been discussed is not ideal because the dynamics of remembering and forgetting are an important part of the therapy and (2) i am inviting a third unknown party/reader in a relationship that is meant to develop on the basis of trust and intimacy. So #006 is as far as this is going to get for now. i think that exposing the therapy on my blog fits in my life strategy based on an inbound journey through exposing weakness and embracing vulnerability. If submission and therapy are parallel ways of doing this, the therapy reports seemed to bridge the distance between the 2 providing a third element to delineate and contextualise them. i have to agree, however, that they maybe seemed to force an element of finality and rationalisation in something that i should probably allow to flourish on a more emotional and instinctive level.

#005: absolute

Starting from my bad relationship with money and the management thereof, spurred by some mistakes on my first bill, we have seamlessly moved on to issues of consideration, jealousy, exclusivity, neglect and my need to be accepted in "absolute" terms. Some people, like my mother, my boyfriend or L (quite an odd assortment of people), have each a value for me that is absolute. They needn't fear any comparison because nobody can stand in their way. They fit their role perfectly because they are their role, they define it. These are the same terms on which i need to be taken.

late night musing

one evening out on the town and two thoughts occur to me:

1) why is it that everything must close so early in London? 10:40 pm and bars were closing. 11.30 and there were no more trains. It's like a children's town: past your bed time, time to sleep.

2) What is that preposterous fake-happy smile plastered on the faces of gay men in London. This smile that says i'm so happy with my life and everything is so fucking fabulous. i may have my own issues because i don't smile at people but, really, that smile. It just makes you want to smash some teeth.

an uncertain blow

i'm having second thoughts about my previously described arrangement as local fallator for a guy i've met off the internet. Second thoughts, in my world, means i can't figure out anymore if i like it or not, if i want it or not. It's requested, so i do it. My idea that we were somehow going to be friendly with each other with the added twist that when he was in the mood i'd provide my services in this way has somehow shifted towards a colder approach. He knows more or less between what times i'm available, he texts me, I go, I perform. There's not much in the way of a friendly exchange going on and the last time i was over he was quite keen to get me out of the door as soon as he was done. I'm not complaining or criticising him, this is what it's about and i don't see it as being treated unfairly. I just ask myself why i'm going along with it.

#004: game

a session all dedicated to trying to figure out what is happening with L or, rather, what is happening with me. Is there a game being played or is it all in my head? why does he behave the way he does and is there anything at all uncommon about the way he behaves? is there friendship, playfulness, indifference, none of these? This is one area that pathetic little me has no control over, even over the confused signals that keep dashing through my brain and crashing my overstretched mental ability, draining me of all strength. Needless to say many questions were raised and none were answered.

#003: dark

An unsettling session focused on my attempt to exert constant control on myself and the image of me that people can see. There appears to be a "dark side" of me that i won't let out and that i won't allow anybody, including myself, to see. The Real Me is, apparently, despicable and should not be shown.

#002: child

Starting from a discussion about the rationale behind presents, i came to discuss my boyfriend's young, almost child-like, personality. This is, in my mind, one of his most beautiful qualities. A man whose mind, it seems, will never age, who will always be playful and unaffected. But innocence can create an illusion of safety and an incident a few years ago has caused a major shift in our relationship and has shown that a child, however unwillingly, can hurt just as much, perhaps even more, than an adult.

#001: end

The session, and the therapy, opened with "i managed to arrive on time". With the following discussion focusing on what this therapy is going to represent for me, i discussed my unease about the fact that it's going to hold me in London. Normally all choices i make are carefully measured to leave the option open for them to be unmade, so that they are not binding. Perhaps because i feel the obligation to carry through anything i start, i try not to commit to anything that's going to be troublesome for me to complete. The question is always the same right from the start: where is this going to take me, how is it going to end?

messed up

it's a messed up situtation. i start to look up and he comes back messing me up again. he doesn't do it deliberately but he does and if he knew he would stop and i wouldn't hear from him again. but i don't want to not hear from him again so i can't suggest it. i just want to try selective quality time together. none of the other crap. and all i get is crap and no time together.

un-juggling and uncompromising

i'm back to not juggling at the moment. Although my experience shows me that juggling and double chatting/dating/hooking up is not a huge deal because finding a master that brings out my desire to submit is definitely a rare event these days, i also know that it does happen and it has happened so i have this resolute determination to not submit to someone unless it feels right. Sounds stupid? Looking for Master Right... i guess but probably i don't need anything else as bad and i don't see any need to make a compromise and get into something i'm not convinced about. Un-juggling means that things tend to go rather slowly but i am positively scared by the prospect of meeting two people that awaken the slave in me and having to take that choice. i approach any such encounter with a sense of duty and if i offer myself as an available slave, i must be available at that moment in time. i don't want to have to seek dismissal by a master because a better one has come along. That shatters my idea of loyalty and devotion which is ultimately the thing i am looking to awaken.

But avoiding the horror situation of having to choose between 2 potential imaginary masters i might be interested in evokes a different sense of guilt for this: the list situation. The current setup implies that i have a list in my head. Once i've committed to meeting somebody, i don't arrange to meet someone else. But it doesn't exactly feel right to keep masters in a list. I guess to be a proper slave i should maybe give myself away on a first-come-first-served basis. No pun intended. Really. But that doesn't seem to be the best course of action. My experience, again, teaches me that waiting too long and assuming too much on the basis of a chat is generally a bad idea. But i can't help doing that.

So my mind, as always, spins out of control on this sort of thing. My friend J suggests that i take a slave holiday weekend, serving him along with his actual slave putting on hold this need, imposed by circumstances, to take decisions. Seeing it in this light does make it sound appealing but can i serve on a strict time basis feeling no devotion and no commitment? Maybe happy slavery is exactly there, in this unburdened letting go without there necessarily being this whole meant-to-be dimension. If this is right, I've definitely been looking in all the wrong places, confusing slavery with relationships. But can i do this? i don't know. it seems i have to reach this cataclysmic mental dimension before i can put my mind at rest, i have to let it spin out of control until all the hinges come loose and i can finally take it out of service.

But the suggested weekend is a long way away and in the meantime i can only keep spinning