Once i read something that Griego de Caballos had written talking about an ex-boyfriend. He wrote i miss you but you no longer occupy that special place in my heart. These words came back to me today as i was thinking about C, my first important master who i used to be in service to over 3 years ago. i have issues with him, issues i haven't managed to resolve. They involve intimacy, breaking barriers, honesty, care, detachment. A lot has changed since the time i used to devotedly look up to him but that place that he had in my heart is his and i can't seem to manage to evict him. My heart isn't a place that people can walk through. It's desolate devastated land that some people build something in. Or where maybe i build something for them. Whatever that may be, that place is theirs and i never claim it back. That's how it has become the overcrowded space it is now and how i've managed to lose my bearings trying to find my way around it.
And today, on my train to work, i sent C a message suggesting to meet up. I did so knowing very well that that time 3 years ago is 3 years away. But it was an attempt to play, play a part in a scene that used to represent me so well. It took some courage on my part to write that message. On the one hand because i don't normally initiate this sort of thing and on the other because the last time i spoke to him, my issues spoke for me. But it only took half a portion of courage. My train was underground and it was easy to press the send button knowing that those few words wouldn't be able to escape the confinement of my tunnel and the message would end up in my unsent items. One step at a time. Upon my arrival, i left the station, and held the phone in my hand knowing those few words were in there somewhere. i hesitated for a while afraid of rejection, then i played another role again, the character who has the second half of that portion of courage. So trying not to think about it too much i opened the cage and watched as those words billowed out of my phone into the morning air.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
the kinky village
When i was growing up and coming to terms with stuff i remember thinking that i had found myself not in one but 2 very unlikely and undesirable situations, kind of like being locked outside your home AND having nothing to eat, or being stranded on an island AND having one leg only. First of all i had to come to terms with being gay, "why me?", "what are the odds?", "that kind of sucks" and all that. At the same time i had to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't just that i was attracted to boys rather than girls but that what got me excited was the idea of being a slave. Working past the first issue is relatively easy, it's the second that's a bitch, it's one more thing you have to learn to deal with. If we consider the human population on earth, you start thinking: ok, i'm in this minority group that's, say, 10% of the whole. Within this group you actually have to understand you belong to an even smaller minority: the kinky people, that might be even less than 10%, i don't know, i've never seen any statistics on that published anywhere. You start by thinking you might be the only one on earth who could be into all this, then, thanks also to the beauty of the internet and sites such as recon, you realise there are many more people who are into the same things. However, there's no denying that you're still in a very small minority.
Even in a city like London the kinky people, doms and subs, are a very small group, you always meet someone who knows someone you know. I know a guy, we'll call him sub1, he's met dom1. Well, i've also met dom1. Dom1 knows dom2 who also knows sub1. I've spoken to dom2 several times. I also know dom3 and dom4 who know each other. dom3 has also met sub1 and dom4 has shared sub2 with dom1. Now, i'm not just saying numbers, these are actual people. It's just like living in the tiniest of villages.
Even in a city like London the kinky people, doms and subs, are a very small group, you always meet someone who knows someone you know. I know a guy, we'll call him sub1, he's met dom1. Well, i've also met dom1. Dom1 knows dom2 who also knows sub1. I've spoken to dom2 several times. I also know dom3 and dom4 who know each other. dom3 has also met sub1 and dom4 has shared sub2 with dom1. Now, i'm not just saying numbers, these are actual people. It's just like living in the tiniest of villages.
the producers
I've been approached by a production company who are working on a programme for channel 4 on people who blog about their sex life. We met for lunch and talked about it. I was flattered by their interest in subdiscourse but couldn't help but wonder if my blog is really about sex. They mentioned a couple of other blogs that are going to be featured in the programme and i had a look and found something that i thought was quite different from what i feel this blog is really about.
So the question is: what's this blog really about? It's about how i confront myself with my submissiveness, how it affects my life and my decisions, my relationships with people. Sure sex is part of all that, because it's part of my life, but i just don't feel that it's the main point at all. I think when i started writing this blog it was because i felt that my submissiveness wasn't all that kinky after all and i wanted to put down into words most of all my emotional response to this very important part of me. A way to embrace it as opposed to hiding it.
But how much do i want to disclose it? They want me to appear on the programme in the flesh and i don't know if i'm really ready for that. I'm also more of a writer than i am a talker and i'm not sure i'd feel very comfortable talking about this in front of a camera to people i don't know. I know, it's a bit of a contradiction to want to embrace this side of me but to be afraid to show my face publicly. Even the blog doesn't have pictures of me. I should borrow a page, or should i say a post, from Mr Bruiser. In a way, i'd want to do it, to say this is me, there's nothing wrong about it, but do i really want to put that in the public domain, say it potentially in front of anyone who might or not know me, neighbours, co-workers, friends. Where should i draw the line between private and public?
So the question is: what's this blog really about? It's about how i confront myself with my submissiveness, how it affects my life and my decisions, my relationships with people. Sure sex is part of all that, because it's part of my life, but i just don't feel that it's the main point at all. I think when i started writing this blog it was because i felt that my submissiveness wasn't all that kinky after all and i wanted to put down into words most of all my emotional response to this very important part of me. A way to embrace it as opposed to hiding it.
But how much do i want to disclose it? They want me to appear on the programme in the flesh and i don't know if i'm really ready for that. I'm also more of a writer than i am a talker and i'm not sure i'd feel very comfortable talking about this in front of a camera to people i don't know. I know, it's a bit of a contradiction to want to embrace this side of me but to be afraid to show my face publicly. Even the blog doesn't have pictures of me. I should borrow a page, or should i say a post, from Mr Bruiser. In a way, i'd want to do it, to say this is me, there's nothing wrong about it, but do i really want to put that in the public domain, say it potentially in front of anyone who might or not know me, neighbours, co-workers, friends. Where should i draw the line between private and public?
Friday, February 16, 2007
gravity
The air of detachment persists. Even though i'm always inevitably drawn towards online hubs of kink where i persistently dialogue with men of a dominant disposition, i still hesitate to trust. It's not that i don't trust them: i don't trust that they'll be the person that i need to have in my life, that they'll fill those big shoes that i've been preparing. So i don't fool myself and am becoming intolerant of those who seem to want to fool me.
Slave and Master are big words and i now beware of them, and of anyone who uses them too early on. I'm submissive and i'll always respond submissively to a dominant personality. There's not a lot that i can or want to do about that. But if you call me your slave after we've exchanged two messages, i can only think that we don't share the same idea of what ownership means. In fact i doubt that i can truly be owned by someone else, i doubt that i can give away that much of me. i have now discovered that my natural response to these claims is to run.
i'm at a stage where i want to enjoy my submissiveness, enrich it by making it a part of me that i can unashamedly look at feeling it fit me like a glove. i don't want to make it the thing that rules, runs and ruins my life. I like experiencing it because it's the tingly sensation that goes through my body when i'm in front of a naturally dominant man, that doesn't make me feel inferior but makes me realise that i've entered an orbit that is stronger than my own and i can reassuringly allow myself to gravitate around it for a while.
But it's orbits that draw me too strongly that make me fear an imminent collision or, at the very least, a vertiginous fall and i don't want either of those at the moment.
The boyfriend is leaving in about a week and, after enjoying for a while the comforts of our relationship, i'll be at that point once again alone with my submissive self, ready to explore it but careful not to explode it.
Slave and Master are big words and i now beware of them, and of anyone who uses them too early on. I'm submissive and i'll always respond submissively to a dominant personality. There's not a lot that i can or want to do about that. But if you call me your slave after we've exchanged two messages, i can only think that we don't share the same idea of what ownership means. In fact i doubt that i can truly be owned by someone else, i doubt that i can give away that much of me. i have now discovered that my natural response to these claims is to run.
i'm at a stage where i want to enjoy my submissiveness, enrich it by making it a part of me that i can unashamedly look at feeling it fit me like a glove. i don't want to make it the thing that rules, runs and ruins my life. I like experiencing it because it's the tingly sensation that goes through my body when i'm in front of a naturally dominant man, that doesn't make me feel inferior but makes me realise that i've entered an orbit that is stronger than my own and i can reassuringly allow myself to gravitate around it for a while.
But it's orbits that draw me too strongly that make me fear an imminent collision or, at the very least, a vertiginous fall and i don't want either of those at the moment.
The boyfriend is leaving in about a week and, after enjoying for a while the comforts of our relationship, i'll be at that point once again alone with my submissive self, ready to explore it but careful not to explode it.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
what if
Reality is such a waste of time. I think i'm once again removing myself from it, becoming less and less concerned with the world around me. I keep one foot in it while the other is off in some other cushioned velvety shoe. I can peacefully sit in my corner for hours enjoying my own company without the need to come out of myself. Some weekends are spent exactly like this: unable to leave my room. Those are the signs of a slightly depressive personality – we all know that very well, we've been there already.
The need to belong is still there. I've simply lost track of the end of this thread that's got all tangled up and messy. It's the desire to channel my exchanges with this world through one person alone, a person greater than me, greater than life. So i do sometimes look up, squint in the light that i've become unaccustomed to and wonder – what if...
The need to belong is still there. I've simply lost track of the end of this thread that's got all tangled up and messy. It's the desire to channel my exchanges with this world through one person alone, a person greater than me, greater than life. So i do sometimes look up, squint in the light that i've become unaccustomed to and wonder – what if...
Sunday, February 4, 2007
empty shell
I should start by apologising to the gentile readership for the long silence. It's been a reasonably eventful period especially marked by confusion and some unexpected reactions. At times i have felt i had undergone something of a metamorphosis when in fact i think i probably simply needed a quiet time.
When i came home that saturday, i lay my tired arse down on the bed and started considering where i was at. i had gone through this long, drawn out, hopeful but hopeless, long-distance would-be ownership with Mr Glasgow, i had come out of it and agreed to give someone else priority over deciding whether to own me. Now that both these attempts had failed, i really wanted what i felt was a deserved break. I wanted to stop agreeing to tentative ownerships, stop committing myself 100% to somebody before even having met them, stop seeing ownership as my goal, stop being so damn serious about it all. What i wanted was to play the field: meet several people, chat, do what was natural instead of living by my own or someone else's rules. I wanted to sort of date: see dominant men, serve when it feels right, walk away when it doesn't. Until i'd meet someone that would make me want to be owned again. That was the plan. A plan that didn't take off as and when i expected.
The first thing i did coming home was update my profile and go online to experience my new freedom and availability. OK, well, the first thing i did was really to put an end to 10 long days of suffered chastity. The experience had left me wondering whether i was really strong enough to endure it for long periods of time and i felt somewhat relieved that i wouldn't be locked in a CB3000 this time around, as i was due to.
When i went online i started talking to a man that i had spoken to casually for some time, he didn't seem to agree that i should be playing the field and pointed out that if i offered myself to an owner, that owner should know that i'm not talking to any other about possible ownership. This wasn't what i wanted but it made a lot of sense for me to hear that. Coming back from that second out-of-london venture, all i could think about was how i missed Mr Glasgow, how natural it had felt for me to want to belong to him, how i really didn't want somebody to take his place in my head. But the reasoning made sense, i shouldn't see more than one prospective owner at any one time so i postponed my plans for a break and agreed to consider myself "under consideration" for ownership, waiting to meet and chat face to face with him a couple of days later.
It's not my habit to blog about too many details that do not exclusively belong to me but i'll just say that our chat was less casual than i had thought it would be and by the end of the evening i found myself being told that i was owned again. At this point i felt unable to accept or refuse, the man in question was clearly more dominant than me and i followed my instinct going along with his desire to make me his slave. But i soon came to realise that something of a quite radical change had taken place in me, i had become detached from the quest for servitude. I began accepting this type of "imposed" ownership as the truer form of slavery. i didn't have to necessarily feel it, i simply had to do what was requested of me and that i did.
The setup was almost perfectly what i had been seeking and yet something wasn't right. i became more and more detached week after week as my actions were not coming from my heart but simply from his commands. Most readers will think that this is exactly what should happen, that i'm thinking like a spoilt kid, that i'm no true slave and i won't argue against any of these points. All i know is that i did not feel happy dealing with this big vacuum inside of me where in the past i had known there could be storms of feelings of devotion.
But devotion is a powerful feeling that you can't recreate at will and there had been too many masters in too little time. i became devoid of any ability to feel what i was doing, they were mere actions i was carrying out and i didn't know why. i couldn't find words to express what was wrong, i only knew that it didn't feel right. The scariest thing of all for me is that i didn't anymore find myself aroused by my subordinate condition. A few weeks earlier, waiting to meet the previous possible owner, i found myself suffering hell trying to endure little over a week of chastity. i became so aroused that i couldn't get a wink of sleep at night and winded up being a wreck during the day to the point of having to take time off work. This time around it's like i was broken: i was serving and there was no arousal, chastity was easy to endure because i was drained of all desire, it was as if i had become an empty shell, a robot.
I voiced those concerns to ensure my owner was aware of what i was experiencing but after a while i had no choice but to seek and, against his will, claim my freedom again. i felt bad about disappointing him. The fact that i even had to disappoint made me feel useless, a hopeless case which perhaps i am. For this reason, having escaped my bonds, i am quite determined to not disappoint again and at the present time i can only do that by not submitting to any form of ownership until the time comes that i'll feel as certain as i did when Mr Glasgow was around, when i was willing to get on a plane at the drop of a hat, in order to kneel where i felt i belonged.
Right now i don't belong at anybody's feet. All i can do is wait to be proven wrong.
When i came home that saturday, i lay my tired arse down on the bed and started considering where i was at. i had gone through this long, drawn out, hopeful but hopeless, long-distance would-be ownership with Mr Glasgow, i had come out of it and agreed to give someone else priority over deciding whether to own me. Now that both these attempts had failed, i really wanted what i felt was a deserved break. I wanted to stop agreeing to tentative ownerships, stop committing myself 100% to somebody before even having met them, stop seeing ownership as my goal, stop being so damn serious about it all. What i wanted was to play the field: meet several people, chat, do what was natural instead of living by my own or someone else's rules. I wanted to sort of date: see dominant men, serve when it feels right, walk away when it doesn't. Until i'd meet someone that would make me want to be owned again. That was the plan. A plan that didn't take off as and when i expected.
The first thing i did coming home was update my profile and go online to experience my new freedom and availability. OK, well, the first thing i did was really to put an end to 10 long days of suffered chastity. The experience had left me wondering whether i was really strong enough to endure it for long periods of time and i felt somewhat relieved that i wouldn't be locked in a CB3000 this time around, as i was due to.
When i went online i started talking to a man that i had spoken to casually for some time, he didn't seem to agree that i should be playing the field and pointed out that if i offered myself to an owner, that owner should know that i'm not talking to any other about possible ownership. This wasn't what i wanted but it made a lot of sense for me to hear that. Coming back from that second out-of-london venture, all i could think about was how i missed Mr Glasgow, how natural it had felt for me to want to belong to him, how i really didn't want somebody to take his place in my head. But the reasoning made sense, i shouldn't see more than one prospective owner at any one time so i postponed my plans for a break and agreed to consider myself "under consideration" for ownership, waiting to meet and chat face to face with him a couple of days later.
It's not my habit to blog about too many details that do not exclusively belong to me but i'll just say that our chat was less casual than i had thought it would be and by the end of the evening i found myself being told that i was owned again. At this point i felt unable to accept or refuse, the man in question was clearly more dominant than me and i followed my instinct going along with his desire to make me his slave. But i soon came to realise that something of a quite radical change had taken place in me, i had become detached from the quest for servitude. I began accepting this type of "imposed" ownership as the truer form of slavery. i didn't have to necessarily feel it, i simply had to do what was requested of me and that i did.
The setup was almost perfectly what i had been seeking and yet something wasn't right. i became more and more detached week after week as my actions were not coming from my heart but simply from his commands. Most readers will think that this is exactly what should happen, that i'm thinking like a spoilt kid, that i'm no true slave and i won't argue against any of these points. All i know is that i did not feel happy dealing with this big vacuum inside of me where in the past i had known there could be storms of feelings of devotion.
But devotion is a powerful feeling that you can't recreate at will and there had been too many masters in too little time. i became devoid of any ability to feel what i was doing, they were mere actions i was carrying out and i didn't know why. i couldn't find words to express what was wrong, i only knew that it didn't feel right. The scariest thing of all for me is that i didn't anymore find myself aroused by my subordinate condition. A few weeks earlier, waiting to meet the previous possible owner, i found myself suffering hell trying to endure little over a week of chastity. i became so aroused that i couldn't get a wink of sleep at night and winded up being a wreck during the day to the point of having to take time off work. This time around it's like i was broken: i was serving and there was no arousal, chastity was easy to endure because i was drained of all desire, it was as if i had become an empty shell, a robot.
I voiced those concerns to ensure my owner was aware of what i was experiencing but after a while i had no choice but to seek and, against his will, claim my freedom again. i felt bad about disappointing him. The fact that i even had to disappoint made me feel useless, a hopeless case which perhaps i am. For this reason, having escaped my bonds, i am quite determined to not disappoint again and at the present time i can only do that by not submitting to any form of ownership until the time comes that i'll feel as certain as i did when Mr Glasgow was around, when i was willing to get on a plane at the drop of a hat, in order to kneel where i felt i belonged.
Right now i don't belong at anybody's feet. All i can do is wait to be proven wrong.
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