the subversive submissive ©

My friend B told me yesterday that he has a new nick for me: the subversive submissive. B is the Master i met a year and a half ago [link] and later became someone i was simply giving head to when he was in the mood [link]. The slave/not-slave, friendly/detached situation eventually came to a breakdown and we moved our relationship to a more friendly basis. He is someone who likes to understand people so he has a way of asking questions and formulating theories that is very characteristic of him.

He often questions me in regards to my desire to be a slave and later presents me with his interpretation on the basis of what i have told him. His usual point is that he finds that i'm quite rigid. He says i have certain expectations of a Master that are very strict. One such example is the fact that i don't like a Master to give me a blow job, i wouldn't want to fuck my Master, in fact to be honest, i don't even like to consider the idea that my Master might like to get fucked or be submissive to anyone.

It's true, i find the idea somewhat disturbing and to be perfectly honest i'm not sure there's anything really wrong with it. As a slave, i see myself as 100% submissive and passive and the man i worship and serve has to be 100% active and dominant. I don't know if there's anything weird about this way of seeing things, but it is the way i see them and i don't think i should do something to modify it. Now, if i say this, he'll say that's a very assertive/dominant comment on my part and that makes me a slave who "dominates from the bottom".

i don't subscribe to this point of view. I think i need to live my slavery on the ideal premise that the 2 figures, Master and slave, complement each other forming a perfect unit that's unbreakable. Seamless. I know these are all utopian ideals but thinking that my Master would want to get fucked tarnishes this shiny metal image with the more uncertain life-like hues that have no place in this perfectly balanced world made of tops and bottoms, Masters and slaves, perfect fits. The fantasy, or the lifestyle, are built around this ideal of super-human manliness that's almost god-like. I realise they're big shoes to fill but it's what creates the magic -- the idea that to a slave, his Master is everything, infalllible and perfect: The Man. So, yes, that's rigid but the terms Master and slave have an intrinisic rigidity that makes them what they are and can't be taken out of them.

So he mocks me for my resolute decisiveness in expressing what i want. Maybe that makes me subversive in some way but I don't think that being submissive means i have to go along with whatever anyone is saying. i may have a tendency towards submissiveness in various areas of my life, but ultimately there's only one person that i have to be fully to.

the importance of symbols

i've always considered myself not to be a gearhead. If i look at a man's profile, and he has pictures in leather i'll actually find it less interesting than a man in plain casual clothes and i've always been rather unmoved by large displays of toy collections. However, there is one object that evokes a very strong response on my part, that focuses and embodies all that submission represents for me: the collar.

I just love collars. I have been involved in scenes where no collar was present and it just ain't the same. Large and heavy, made of hard leather, as soon as a master places his collar around my neck, it's immediate bliss for me. Total peace of mind and nothing else matters. The joy is difficult to express, the security of feeling it there when i move my head and knowing that only one person can put it on or take it off and it's as if the hand of my Master extended to hold me and give me strength all the time.

I've often fantasised about receiving a symbolic permanent collar by a Master, like a metal ring or a little chain, that is welded shut so that the only way to take it off is to break it. The collar could remain on me throughout the whole length of my service and could be a constant reminder of the man who owns me.

obedience is bliss

Last weekend I have talked online to somebody new. I'll start by saying that i have been wrong about this sort of thing millions of times. But i don't care because each new coin toss has no history. And i don't care because if i did i wouldn't even try to talk to new masters and i wouldn't hope i might meet the one that i'll want to give myself to. But i do. You see, under all the depressive bullshit, i'm an optimist at heart. Either that or i'm deluded. Or in denial. Or both, why not. Whatever. Truth is, this man has truly captured my mind. And i mean truly captured it. I have barely been able to think of anything else since last saturday.

The complication this time, the fly in the ointment, as some would say, is that he's hundreds of miles away. It's not an irremediable distance where you make your peace with it and don't think about it, like australia or japan and he's not merely at an inconvenient distance, like, say, surrey or somewhere else like that that's just annoyingly far. He's at a considerable but manageable distance: in Scotland.

He's offered to take me as his slave, and i've accepted. i don't know why. I have no idea how this is going to work, if i'm going, if he's coming, when, how often. i just know that after talking to him, i felt that i wanted to do it, i wanted to be his slave.

And just as he came into being, his absence became very obvious and was felt very strongly. As my pubes are once again clear, as per his desires, i look at the freshly shaved area and it's my only point of contact with my new Master that i have yet to meet.

hit (on) and run

Over the last 2 weeks i've been approached by a few people who've expressed interest but then, as i replied showing my own interest and came closer to arranging an actual meet, have started blanking me.

Apart from the obvious rudeness - but i'll even accept some people would argue that a slave shouldn't assume he'll be treated politely - it seems an utter waste of everyone's time. If you want to chat and wank, there are lots of places online that are dedicated to that or, at the very least, you could be open and say it. i might even be less sincere, say the right things and accommodate a man's fantasy if i knew he was only interested in a wank rather than an actual real life encounter.

accueil

Today i saw him again. My ghost. L. Every time it's like an exercise in introspection, like putting myself under the microscope and trying to understand how i respond. The big infatuation is clearly behind me but i would be lying if i didn't admit to myself that he still stirs something up in me, i just have no word for what it is. These days i really wouldn't want to be his slave and i wouldn't want to be his lover or his boyfriend. But I would want to be held, in silence, for a little while, to allow all those feelings i had for him to finally seep out of me. Cry them out. i wish that he could simply accept them, acknowledge them, receive them, after denying them any expression for so long. They've stagnated in me for so long that it would do me a lot of good to clear them out.

the first time i came

The first time i came i was about 12. With me it didn't happen, as with a lot of people, in a dream, in fact, unlike --i imagine-- a lot of people, it didn't even happen in connection with anything clearly sexual but, you'll be surprised to read, in relation to thoughts that involved humiliation and submission.

I was home from school one morning, i can't remember why, and my mind had conjured up this whole exoticist fantasy that involved being stranded on a desert island and found and captured by the natives who were all young savage bare-chested men, as it happens.

As I was tied and taken to their leader, another greased up muscled stud sat on some stone throne, i was made to kneel and pushed forward with a kick to my back so that i would fall flat on my stomach with my face inches from his feet.

All i did, and now tell me what pubescent boy hasn't, is i took off my shirt and was enacting falling flat on my chest with my hands tied behind my back. As i did that, i noticed that the impact of my pelvic area with the ground was causing some peculiar sensations. Pleasurable enough, in fact, to convince me to repeat this fall another couple of times, until, on the third or fourth impact i came in my pants uncertain as to what had happened but somehow suspecting that i might need to wash up.

the dark side

I remember last year, when i was kept in chastity, i used to wake up at night dead horny. I remember how, unable to touch my dick but allowed to stimulate my arse, my focus had completely shifted and, as a person normally uninterested in doing much with my bum, i would wake up, often several nights in a row, having no choice but to reach out for a dildo. I would then proceed to massacre my hole with it until i would reach some sense of accomplishment. I had become completely receptive in my sexuality and it was a feeling i was happy and content with. The sexual frustration had become a familiar feeling. For me it spelt slavery, it symbolised my being owned, and i was happy to be kept that way. I sort of miss that now, though clearly i'm not going to put myself through chastity of my own volition -- i lack self-discipline when not owned. Like when i was a child and i would never do my homework unsupervised.

snip or not

Today, after much looking around, i found a doctor who told me what i wanted to hear.

For a long time i've had a small problem with my penis: a very tight foreskin that doesn't retract fully when i'm erect and a very short frenulum that makes any attempt at stretching the foreskin quite painful. The obvious option that a lot of doctors have suggested to me was circumcision but i've always found that very old school, and a rather extreme remedy. Plus, I don't know how i feel about circumcised dicks. Well, i know that my preference is for natural uncut dicks even though i have to admit that circumcised dicks look very clean and tidy.

So I've tried several options: i've tried much advocated stretching techniques with the help of a topical steroid ointment but they've been quite unsuccessful because although they seemed to be having an effect on the foreskin, i later discovered the frenulum problem which they weren't very helpful for.

So i started considering surgery. But which surgery? Like i've said a lot of doctors were suggesting circumcision as a solution, but they always struck me as not really wanting to spend too much time thinking about the problem and i didn't want to go chopping off bits of me because of a doctor that has other things to think about. At the same time, online a lot of articles seemed to discredit circumcision in favour of other more conservative procedures. So i kept shopping around for second and third opinions and today i finally found a doctor who felt, like me, that full circumcision may be unnecessary.

And it's really odd because it really is like shopping: shopping for a new penis. What cut shall i go for? Is circumcision in or out? And frenuloplasty? The new black? As always all these decisions leave me so uncertain and i swing from one position to the other. It would be easier to have someone who could take this decision for me but, unfortunately, that's not the case and opinions are quite diverging. My bf is quite pro-circ, or rather, has no strong anti-circumcision feeling, whereas L is strongly against it, he keeps saying it doesn't look good, that the change of skin tone makes it look like a mutilatation. He has quite strong opinions about things. Personally, I am trying to keep as much of myself as i came with, though i also ask myself: what's more slave? Cut or uncut? Cut doesn't exactly facilitate masturbation so it could be a way to limit my ability to self-centeredly indulge in it. But who would i be doing it for? Plus, a lot of cut people manage very well, i'm sure, to please themselves.

So the doubt remains and i could use some advice...

Cut the foreskin: Yes or No?
	Yes (Circumcision)
	No (Frenuloplasty)
	No (Keep stretching)
Free polls from Pollhost.com

the escape

Possibly one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life. Tonight. I must start listening to my instincts a bit more. I've been telling myself i should trust chemistry, ownership can't be forced and instead, after a very friendly first encounter that spelt very little Master/slave interaction, i agreed to a more full-on indoors second encounter, despite feeling uncertain about it and not really wanting to go.

But the man in question was keen to be served and i hate to disappoint - with the effect that i disappointed even more because shortly after arriving, the metamorphosis happened from friendly to role-playing verbally nasty and unconvinced service on my part. It was just not working, too much rough grabbing, awkward exchanges and unfelt kissing. I had to leave.

It's disappointing that i can't serve on cue, that i can't put my doubts and desires on hold to just please the man i'm with. It just felt too fake and he kept asking, who do you belong to? and i can't look someone in the eye and tell them something that's not true.

know what you want

They say you've got to know what you want. Masters say that all the time. Personally, I don't know what i want but i make up for that by having a fairly good idea of what i am. Knowing what you want is overrated. Doesn't that negate the essence of what it is to be a slave? People get annoyed about me not being sure of what i want. But isn't that what makes me what i am? I don't necessarily go after what i want. Not always. Sometimes the anxiety caused by going to see a master is such that i feel physically sick and i have to take drugs to return to a normal state. Not illegal drugs but chemical substances nonetheless. My body is stressed out at the idea of the performance and doesn't always react too well. Then why do you go through with that? Because when i put on the plates of a scale my anxiety and a master's satisfaction, there is no doubt in me which of the 2 forces i'll be happier giving in to.

open service

More attempts at renewed ownership keep failing miserably. I just can't feel the submissive urge. No, wait, i'll rephrase that. I just can't feel the slavish devotion. No one can make me say i want to be your slave and no one else's. i guess to do that, i have to fall victim to those feelings that are awash with love, infatuation, admiration. All those things i'm not getting.

i'm well aware of my subservient position in life and i'm happy to oblige to requests for service but other than feeling good for having satisfied a dominant man who required my services, i have no further desire to become owned. No one, these days, is inspiring those feelings of awe in me, no one i can comfortably look up to - and not because i'm feeling high up already but because i feel there's no one around.

an added boner

Today we replaced our old and dying vacuum cleaner with a brand spanking new one. As the most impatient member of the household by far, and a bit of a cleaning freak when in the mood, i jumped at the chance of cleaning those hard-to-get-to spots around the house. As my straight housemate walked past me on the stairs with a drink in his hand as i was down on all four happily intent at getting the dirt out of the carpet, it occurred to me that this was kind of like some parallel society where some members don't have to do any effort because all the work is carried out by one specific category of people. I kept doing my housework with a hardon in my pants, it was even better.

every little helps

Finally i went. he called me to him and i went. i grovelled, i kissed, i licked and did all that was expected of me. Does it make me feel any better? A little.

hello slave

Someone told me, hello slave.

People have such diverging ideas on what that means. You can be a sex slave, a house boy, a toilet slave, a dog, a pig, a pony... To tell someone hello slave, do you want to meet, is absurd. If i was a slave, i wouldn't have to be asked. i'm clearly not his slave, so why call me that. You can make me your slave, hunt me and make me submit. But i'm getting increasingly resistent to giving up that control of my own volition. And definitely not to just anyone who asks. So people will say: ha, you're not a real slave then if you want to chose. But i could tell them they're not real Masters if they can't get me to submit. But i don't go telling people whether they are, or not, real masters. That's hardly my role.

Other people want you to beg to be fucked or to suck them but, if they had a slave, if they actually owned one, if they'd bought and paid for it at some slave market, would the slave beg them? would they listen to a slave's prayers or would they just use it the way they feel and when they feel? If you own a pen, you don't want it to ask you to use it to write. It doesn't get you more in the mood to write if the pen asks you. You pick it up when you have something to write and when you're done you put it down. You don't pick it up again until you have to write something else. A pen, like a slave, is a tool. So why can't you use your slave the way you use anything else you own?

I think one of the reasons why one recent attempt at slavery failed is because the Master who was making use of me kept telling me that i'd have to deserve to make him cum. That did not compute for me. I didn't understand what i was supposed to do. Why couldn't he just fuck me when he was in the mood, cum if he wanted to cum, not cum if he didn't want to cum. Why do i have to deserve to make him cum? if i'm someone's slave, i don't have to "deserve" anything. Things are either given or not given to me. i have no control over it and i don't want any control over it. In the same way, when you want a slave to beg you to fuck him, is because you're still considering your slave as another person, with desires and wants, you're acting as if his desires mattered. He's doing it because you're telling him to do it. Why pretend that what he wants matters? And if what he wants does matter, why mock him and call him a slave?

Something that was always so fulfilling in my role as D's slave was that i felt i had really no control with him. Once, in a situation that i felt was hard for me, i broke down, couldn't take it anymore, i really wanted to leave and asked him to let me go home. I never had a safe word, and that meant i was powerless to resist him. I had to trust him, and i did. I could beg and he could give or deny. When i begged that night he eased things for me but ignored my request to let me go and i was so grateful to him for not letting me go. He kept me there and i slept next to my Master. But for the last time - after that he let me go for good.

So, someone told me hello slave and all this happened in my head.

diary of a depressed slave

Don't know why, i spend my whole week feeling stressed by work and looking forward to having some time for myself, then, come Friday evening, as i leave the office, i am overwhelmed by sadness and void. It leaves me powerless and unable to move or react. I just have to freeze and let it blow past me.

The therapy is continuing, in the last 5 minutes of the last session i gave in and accepted to go for a further 2 weeks. One week's now gone. I regretted it right after saying it but i kept to my word. I can easily be swayed, we've all realised that.

But 2 more weeks doesn't change anything, the therapy itself is such a long and slow process that it has itself started to make me feel imprisoned.

i got asked over by a master i have served a couple of times in the past but i'm turning down the invitation. i'm so messed up in the head. i came home needing to serve, to get out of myself, to just be used, to feel. Pain, humiliation, joy, whatever, anything but the void. But i can't find the strength to actually push out of it. When you're owned it's easier, you just have to do what you're told to do. When you're not owned, you're the one who has to find the strength to take your own decision and it's fucking exhausting.

But i can't let him own me. I don't feel it. Maybe it's because a long time ago, when i was owned by D, he tried to "poach" me and was disrespectful to him. I don't mean by the shear act of poaching but by what he said. I responded (disrespectfully), confronted him and ended up feeling annoyed. Maybe because of that i can't let myself feel for him what a slave feels for his Owner.

Yet, i still went to see him when i was released, i served him, i let him use me, hurt and abase me. But it's a story of continued resistance on my part: me resisting his attempted claims over me. And the fight makes serving him more satisfying because at the end he gets his way, he uses me and i go home with his fluids in my stomach and my face smelling of his pubes.

But he's not the Master at whose feet i can just curl up and feel protected. He's the man who abuses me, that i resist and lose to.

But he's not my Master.

grow up

i remember as a child feeling somewhat disturbed the first time i came across a porn magazine. A drawing of a woman pissing in a man's mouth, it was a comic book. Seemed quite an absurd idea. Surely he would die from poisoning. These days, material of the same quality appears on my screen, or at least in my head, with some regularity.

Growing up is a seedy business.

lessons

There are people, that by simply chatting to you, can really catch your attention. A is this. We've chatted a few times before but circumstances were never quite right. Last time I felt we had really hit it off, albeit only on an online level, but i really enjoyed talking to him and would have loved to meet him if i hadn't already agreed to wait for some guy who was moving to London and who later turned out to be a total waste of time [more].

Because of this he felt it would be better not to meet at all. And now, a year and a half later, we are going to meet up. i must say, i have suffered major disappointments assuming too much on the basis of an online conversation. Often it is simply a projection of my imagination. But, what can i say, lessons are clearly not so easily learnt.

the experience

Over the last few days i have been melancholically reminiscing about an experience that's been very meaningful to me: the first time i was fucked by my Master of about a year ago.

For quite some time i had seen him regularly and served him as best i could, but for the first couple of months he never chose to use my arse.

I was ok with it, getting fucked has never been something i particularly enjoy, but far from it being something i do lightly with just anyone, it's mostly an act that's deeply meaningful for me, that symbolises taking possession and that lastly creates a very intense connection.

I cannot express how strongly i wanted to please him. i wanted to be instrumental to his pleasure so much it almost hurt. When his cock was in front of me and i was given the opportunity to worship it, it felt like the most sacred of acts, the highest of privileges and i wanted to do anything to please that cock.

The day that he simply turned me over and, without a word, fucked me, was one of the most fulfilling moments ever for me. i doubt i ever properly managed to express this to him. On the day i idiotically kept thanking him. I've done this other times: i got fucked and i thanked who had fucked me for using me. It's just always seemed proper form to me but this time it was different and those thank-yous were so deeply felt.

It sounds so terribly cliché, he had "taken his pleasure from my body", nauseatingly overused. But to a slave, and that's what i felt i was to him at the time, it was everything.

renewing gunnar

I've never been much of a porn person, not because I'm such a good boy of course but more likely because I've never come across a variety of porn that would solidly rock my boat. All regular porn leaves me completely uninterested and even a vast number of, so to speak, kinky material leaves me feeling uninspired.


One website, though, that has not failed to catch my attention is punkboys.net. Over a year ago I came across this site and was so intrigued that for the first time i bought a membership to "see more". The videos are not as interesting as they appear when you see the pics but they're still ok to look at. For the majority it's straight guys taken from the streets of some Eastern European country and promised a couple of beers and a few bucks if they humiliate, piss and spit on some other guy. So a lot of the doms are quite good looking but really uninterested in any of the action, mostly looking in the distance at straight porn playing on some tv, in order to stay hard and give the sub something to work on. There is, however, one dom who's very interested in what's going on. His name is Gunnar, i think, and he's viciously mean. You can see he really enjoys humiliating and beating these guys about. His videos are by far the hottest on the site and some pics of him taken from this site are literally posted all over the internet. Ok, admittedly you have to look in the right places.

The membership to the site is one of those cunning auto-renewing things so if you don't want it anymore you have to actually take the time out to cancel it - and when it comes to someone like me who's remarkably bad at keeping track of these things, it so happens that i never actually got round to cancelling it. I'm not on it very often, so i don't think about it that much but every now and again i remember about it and think i should cancel it. Then i go on the site, i think that maybe i should watch some of the videos one more time and i eventually fail to cancel it because i kind of enjoy watching it and i think i'll cancel it another time.

Today is one of those days. I went on the site to find out what the procedure was to cancel. As i was once again starting to have doubts about cancelling on account of all those enticing images i was confronted with, i thought: what the heck, let's have another look at mean Gunnar but only to find out that my username and password weren't working. I thought the site might be down but i found a way to check my membership and discovered that it got cancelled months ago -- when my wallet was stolen and my credit cards cancelled.

I felt relieved that i didn't have to go through the decision of cancelling (decisions are very hard for me when i have to take them myself) but the relief vanished quite quickly and as my eyes caught a glimpse of all those images again i started wondering if i should renew my membership.