rocks under the water

Quite some time since my last post which doesn't reflect a lack of things happening but rather a lack of time for blogging.

Things didn't work all that well with the man referred to as the "new master" in my earlier posts. It was quite a disappointment. In that case, what seemed like online chemistry translated to no chemistry at all once we were face to face. I travelled once again outside of London anxious to meet him. I still remember the feeling of getting a text from him when i was on the train.

What i find odd about this business of meeting people online is that when you first start talking to someone online you form an opinion about them, an idea of what they might be like. You basically create them inside your head. You then meet them and generally they'll be a little different from the way you thought they'd be. They'll look a little different from their photos, you can see that which you thought you could see in the picture but face to face they are a different person. Sometimes you go on to see them for quite a long time but for whatever reason that first person you had created in your mind is always there, you can always see them again in your mind and remember the way they made you feel. Or at least that's what happens to me. Even now i can reconnect again with that person i was talking to before i actually met him.

When i got his text i had been on a train for some time already. I'd been up for several hours, to get ready, to get to the station early, to catch my train and to arrive at his place at a time that would be reasonably early for a saturday morning. His text came to me as he was just waking up and after my own anxious morning trying to get things done on time, i immediately relaxed and got hard at the thought of what separated his saturday morning from mine. I remember wishing i could go straight to his place and wake him up on my knees and with his breakfast. But this was our first encounter so he was going to pick me up at the railway station and drive me to his place.

When i arrived it was raining quite hard and i had to wait for a little while outside the station because he waited for me to arrive before he left his house to drive out to pick me up. But of course i didn't mind all that as i was still waiting for that person that i had met in the intricate corridors of my mind.

It was quite unfortunate that the car that stopped in front of me to pick me up had inside a very different person, one who looked quite different from the one i had seen in his photos and who felt very different. One that didn't speak to me at all on the way to his place. One who felt a little awkward and ill at ease in that situation. Suddenly this had become a cheap pick up at a railway station and driving home for some anonymous sex.

It become even more anonymous as a blindfold was fastened over my eyes back at his place. Initially i felt that that way i could still see the master that had existed in my mind but, as things went on, it became obvious that awkward is awkward even with a pillow duct-taped over your head. As he started taking photos of me, it became clear that he was making the most of this one-time meet and i became sad and asked to leave.

On the train back I didn't feel sad any more. The person i was leaving behind was not the one i thought i'd be meeting and all i could feel was an incredible sense of confusion. I missed Mr Glasgow, wished that i could see him again but above all there was the desire to take a break from any Master/slave situation.

I came home thinking that i wouldn't be seeking to commit to anyone for some time, that i wanted to meet people more casually, stop jumping into slavery so easily, perhaps meet someone where there could be complicity, understanding, fun and, next to it, a good match sexually. I told myself that i wouldn't commit to serving any one man until one came along where it felt i had no other choice.

But that same saturday afternoon i talked to someone else.

the de-fetishised fetish

I thought further about what i wrote yesterday about pure and simple work. I think i have eroticised the non-erotic, and made a fetish out of managing to remove any classic fetish element. The enormous appeal is in the normality of Dom/sub dynamics where service is the key and any "gear" becomes completely redundant and unnecessary. Almost a distraction. I must admit the theatrical still has a way of capturing my senses and my mind. Collars, manacles, whips, they do get my attention but so does a confident dominant man who wants to get head when he wants to get head and wants his shirt ironed when he wants his shirt ironed. And maybe i don't need to be plugged when doing this, i just need to get the job done right for him.

Some time ago i was reading a story by one of my favourite online writers, and the character in the story was very convincingly arguing how a man cannot be expected to always appear the way a gentleman is expected to if he doesn't have slaves to wash and iron his shirts, press his trousers and polish his shoes. All these things take time and a free man can't be expected to have a job, where he has to appear at his best, and have to worry about such chores.

Now beyond the fantasy, would i leave my job and become a stay-at-home slave? i wish i could say that i would, that i had the freedom of mind required to do something like this. Or rather, i wish i could meet the man who'd make me want to leave everything for him. In the meantime i've internalised too much of this society to be able to pull off quitting job, friends, family, relationship, to become the proper slave that i dream i could be.

Yesterday a man talked to me about internal enslavement. I was familiar with the concept and he thinks it's for me. It certainly is on a metal level but i'm starting to be tired of my inability to embrace my "call". If it's really me, i should be able to make it my reality instead of flirting with the thought without ever really making it happen for real all the way. I'm paralysed in my own inertia perhaps waiting for someone else to operate all these changes for me.

doing the work

Today i was doing a bit of cleaning. Still riding on my sportsgear shopping spree i had sweats on, a t-shirt and some white cotton socks. Very uninspiring and yet... as i was cleaning and tidying up i, er, got inspired. i started thinking about what it would be like to do this kind of work for a Master. I liked the idea of pure, simple work, totally de-fetishised, not naked, in chains or collars, just everyday, run-of-the-mill work to make my Master's life easier. Because chores have to be done and sometimes it's not about whips and clamps, but shopping, washing, vacuuming, and giving your work to the man who owns you.

one extra week

The new Master has cancelled our meeting on Saturday. Far from me to want to stigmatise him for this which is likely to have very valid reasons, i won't deny that my recent exploits have left me rather sensitive to cancellations and plans that aren't adhered to. I have always been, to be honest, this way. In the past, i've always taken a cancelled meet as a sign that the person i was meant to meet wasn't serious about things happening. Lately i have stopped adhering rigidly to this rule. That's definitely what happened with the whole Glasgow story and in this case too, my prospective new owner has shown his clear interest in owning me so i will clearly wait to meet him next week and will not let myself be too bothered by this cancellation.

In the meantime, he has started making his presence felt in my life with a few simple instructions that don't fail to remind me that he's taken charge of me. It's always difficult in the beginning, when you haven't met the person who might soon own you. I normally try to hesitate to get too involved at this stage, but what do you do when the man you might soon belong to asks you to follow certain instructions and start obeying. You do it, of course.

So, among other things, i'm in chastity. Chastity is a great thing for a slave. Clearly you can't do it unless you're owned -- you are bound to lack motivation -- but if you're lucky enough to be owned and to be kept in chastity by your owner, after a few days it starts to deeply change your perception of yourself. It is self-admittedly frustrating but you also stop seeing your body as something that's there to give you pleasure and start considering it as something that can give someone else pleasure and, if you're in any way the submissive type, you'll know that that is the best feeling. You detach yourself from the idea of cumming and messing with your dick as something that is really more your Master's thing and you start becoming more focused on your arse and appreciating it as the thing that can be the source of your Owner's pleasure. As someone who's not naturally arse-centred at all, not a natural bottom in that sense, i appreciate the way that chastity can change me and make me crave the feeling of my Master getting up there taking pleasure from it.

While fantasising and waiting for all of this to happen, i've found a different way to please my Owner. That is indulging his sportswear fetish by taking advantage of the january sales. I've positively gone on a shopping spree that's filled my drawers with tracksuit bottoms, soccer kit, trainers and other bits and bobs, even shin guards. It's odd to have bought all this stuff, to wear it and feel like i'm changing a little to become a little more the way my Owner wants me. But it's a nice feeling and it keeps me going until next weekend when our meeting is scheduled.