What behaviour is appropriate? Am I reasonable or unreasonable? How many times am I going to sit and wonder about a reaction I've had and try to interpret whether I've acted in an absurd irrational way or I was perfectly within my right to behave the way I did?
When feelings run so close to the surface, it's impossible to have any kind of objectivity.
This is a classic subdiscourse post: one where I have no idea where I'm going but I'm really writing because it's the only way I know to make sense of the shitstorm™ going on inside my head right now.
Let's rewind for a moment. A few months ago I met a Man, a dominant Man, that in the past I would have killed to belong to. He's handsome, he's a nice guy, and he really *really* treats me like a slave, like my whole being revolves around serving. It helps that he grew up having servants so he's very comfortable in this role.
These days, as the careful reader will know, ownership is a term that I stay well away from, and I told him this from the start, I don't want to be anyone's slave at the moment. Serve, yes. Belong, no thanks.
But from the start he's been quite forceful in demanding my time, when he wants it, and quite annoyed about the constraints that other engagements in my life impose on my schedule.
I guess it makes sense, if he sees me as a slave, that "stuff" going on in my life is just an inconvenience that gets in the way of him getting the service that he wants. But I'm not his slave so our exchanges often descend into me having to assert some degree of independence (something that I'm very bad at doing) and him basically making me feel like shit when I say I can't serve him.
Today things ended on a sour note, something I'm not feeling very happy about.
I haven't seen him in a while because our schedules have been severely mismatched: he's only available weekends and I'm only available during the week. But this weekend I'm available so for a while we've known I would be seeing him.
Last week he messages me about this weekend saying he wants me to serve as a waiter at a party he's hosting at his place for a few of his friends and co-workers.
Now, to me serving is such an intimate act of expression, so close to my inner self, that the idea of exposing it in front of a crowd of strangers is overwhelming: too much to bear. In a way I'm even excited by the idea, but it's just too much and I don't know how to deal with it. It might turn out to be liberating to do it but I have to walk that board alone and I don't have the stomach to face those sharks head on.
When I'm serving a dominant man, it's one thing, it's like I can trust him because he understands what I need and my nature and his nature are a perfect match but in front of a random bunch of people, the idea of exposing my very core is just too much. And it doesn't matter that they'd only think of me as a waiter because I would know.
So, thinking that this was what he had in mind for this long awaited weekend, I got annoyed and I said I didn't want to do it, that I didn't want to serve him in front of other people.
He surprised me by being very understanding and saying that it was ok and he would be seeing me the following day, on Sunday, to serve him as a slave and, I thought to myself, quite possibly cleaning up.
So I was supposed to see him this Sunday but this morning he messaged me saying that he wanted to see me this evening. I would serve him sexually, as well as clean his apartment, presumably now for his upcoming soiree. It was inconvenient but I agreed to go.
All day I was nervous and excited about seeing him and just as I was on my way out, I got a message from him saying that his partner was going to be home while I was there.
I felt annoyed, and betrayed. Again I was having to deal with him exposing me in front of people I don't know. I wanted to serve him: to me that is a very intimate relationship, one that I can't share with random people. Already I don't like knowing that I'm cleaning a place that isn't only his, that his partner is benefiting from my slave labour, but I get over that because it is what it is, but while he's there in the next room! To me, that was too much.
So I cancelled and came back home. He was very annoyed. I think it's the last I hear of him and I'm left a little empty and not knowing if I've over-reacted or I was right in doing what I did. I did what I felt I had to but having this desperate desire to please means I now feel bad that I put myself first.
Getting what I wanted is a hollow victory for a submissive...
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Monday, November 10, 2014
getting the fear
Recently an episode of Homeland prompted me to look at what's been going on with me recently.
A character in the show opined that "men are always afraid their wives are secretly crazy and women are always afraid their husbands are really losers."
Sidestepping the sexism of this statement that's not the topic of this blog, if we transpose those rigid expectations of gender roles to another equally... strike that, even more rigidly defined binary, that of a M/s relationship, which is more pertinent in this blog and with which we feel comfortable using such coarse paint strokes, could we state the same of a Master and his slave? That a Master secretly fears his slave is crazy and a slave that his Master is a loser?
Obviously I don't think that of dominant men but I have dealt with a fair amount of men, who having achieved such high accomplishments in life as selecting "100% active" from a dropdown list now feel that they are entitled to the utmost respect from me.
I concede that the workings of polite BDSM society require those at the bottom of the pyramid to show respect to those in the higher echelons but I'm often faced with having to draw the line somewhere.
I normally deal with all people with a modicum of respect and politeness. I reply politely to all polite (and many not so polite) messages. But when people deal with me in the way you would with whatever has popped out of the slot machine after you've pulled the lever expecting me to accommodate requests for photos and personal information to someone who hasn't so much as said hello before they proceed to pull the lever again and see what else pops out, I then do a bit of a U-turn and reconsider.
Recently I've been a little unlucky with people who have approached me online. Two people were particularly bad. One made arrangements to see me on a particular day (in his own dungeon!), then when the day came, stopped replying to messages. The other made arrangements to see me on a particular day, then when the day came, I got sick and had to cancel for that day, and he stopped responding to messages.
You see that there seems to be a pattern there. People have problems communicating. I suppose that's what's harder to deal with: you seek a connection to another human being but they just want a fuck and readily move to the next person when that fuck is not immediately available. It's as if the umbrella of online communication has made it impossible to deal with one another as actual human beings and has validated the worst rudeness as though it is now suddenly acceptable to deal with people as disposable fuck holes.
Fair enough if that's all you're seeking from life but you see how the above mentioned fear can suddenly creep in?
Monday, September 1, 2014
sanity
I don't know how to look after my mental sanity.
I thought regaining some sort of independence from the men I serve without putting all of myself in a single man's hands would help me remain more balanced but, as it turns out, it's just as unsettling.
Last night, in the middle of the night, I started a chat with a man who one could only define as a cock-tease. For months, he's been hinting to wanting to use me, saying the day is coming, even admitting, however, that the more I want him, the more he's turned on by delaying meeting.
After I got out of bed basically to provide him with personalised wanking material, at the end of the chat session, he ended with a very mean message.
My crimes were: (1) asking if he could refrain from calling me "my son". Any other form of address is fine, I said. Although I didn't explain, I just find it creepy to send video of me self-fucking to someone who calls me his "son" and acts like my father. (2) At the end, when he'd finished his wank, given that he knows I've been chaste now for over a month and love the idea that he can cum when he wants and I shouldn't, I asked him if I could see a pic of his cum. This is rather selfish, I'll admit that, but in the context of multiple media being sent back and forth and occasional friendly banter, I asked if he would. I guess in the drowsiness of my nighttime service I figured it mattered that I had got out of bed for him. I would have respectfully accepted a no.
He replied saying he was "very upset with me", that I "didn't understand the Master and slave relationship" and then proceeded to block me. He blocked me after keeping me waiting since May saying he wanted to meet.
This left me with very mixed emotions.
Sadness. A man I had really wanted to please blocked me telling me he was disappointed in me.
Anger. I thought, WTF? Blocking? It's such an immature, passive-aggressive thing.
Depression. I don't understand how to deal with my emotions, my desire to submit. Every road I take leads to some form of rejection.
More anger. Again, WTF... He's "upset"?
Upset. I feel devastated and can't stop thinking about it.
Self-loathing. Part of me does think if I've let him down it's still my fault. No matter how much of an asshole he is, if I'm a slave, I should still put myself second and try to please him. Instead I mistook his occasional friendliness and made requests for myself. Maybe it's true that I don't understand the Master/slave relationship. Maybe I do need to disregard completely whatever I want.
But will that really take care of my mental sanity?
I thought regaining some sort of independence from the men I serve without putting all of myself in a single man's hands would help me remain more balanced but, as it turns out, it's just as unsettling.
Last night, in the middle of the night, I started a chat with a man who one could only define as a cock-tease. For months, he's been hinting to wanting to use me, saying the day is coming, even admitting, however, that the more I want him, the more he's turned on by delaying meeting.
After I got out of bed basically to provide him with personalised wanking material, at the end of the chat session, he ended with a very mean message.
My crimes were: (1) asking if he could refrain from calling me "my son". Any other form of address is fine, I said. Although I didn't explain, I just find it creepy to send video of me self-fucking to someone who calls me his "son" and acts like my father. (2) At the end, when he'd finished his wank, given that he knows I've been chaste now for over a month and love the idea that he can cum when he wants and I shouldn't, I asked him if I could see a pic of his cum. This is rather selfish, I'll admit that, but in the context of multiple media being sent back and forth and occasional friendly banter, I asked if he would. I guess in the drowsiness of my nighttime service I figured it mattered that I had got out of bed for him. I would have respectfully accepted a no.
He replied saying he was "very upset with me", that I "didn't understand the Master and slave relationship" and then proceeded to block me. He blocked me after keeping me waiting since May saying he wanted to meet.
This left me with very mixed emotions.
Sadness. A man I had really wanted to please blocked me telling me he was disappointed in me.
Anger. I thought, WTF? Blocking? It's such an immature, passive-aggressive thing.
Depression. I don't understand how to deal with my emotions, my desire to submit. Every road I take leads to some form of rejection.
More anger. Again, WTF... He's "upset"?
Upset. I feel devastated and can't stop thinking about it.
Self-loathing. Part of me does think if I've let him down it's still my fault. No matter how much of an asshole he is, if I'm a slave, I should still put myself second and try to please him. Instead I mistook his occasional friendliness and made requests for myself. Maybe it's true that I don't understand the Master/slave relationship. Maybe I do need to disregard completely whatever I want.
But will that really take care of my mental sanity?
The thing I cannot reconcile is that no matter how much of an asshole I think he is, if he contacts me again I will probably apologise and beg for his forgiveness. In other words I have to realise I'm looking for some kind of total annihilation of my own self and have to wonder what is at the end of that road.
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
dilemma
The young Man's interest in owning me has raised the issue of whether I want to be owned again. I definitely wasn't interested in the idea until I started talking to him but even now I'm still fighting it. After losing my collar a year ago with so much heartache, I was completely uninterested in re-experiencing ownership and being someone's slave.
Recently my journey has taken me to a point where I can comfortably see my purpose as that of serving men without the need to centre that on any particular man. I have started to think of my submissiveness as my inner nature, something that defines me, and perceive myself as sitting on a lower level than the men I serve. I'm content with accepting this fact. The question ensues: am I simply turned on by seeing things this way or do I actually think that? Do I really think that I'm lower than and inferior to the men I serve? On some level I feel very comfortable with accepting that, but I'm not 100% sure of what that actually means. In the interaction, it's pretty clear: one party gets to be served, experience pleasure and control the other who is there to provide pleasure, serve and generally be of use. The existence of a clear hierarchy makes it clear that one man is above the other, hence we have a relationship of superiority/inferiority.
But does that mean that I am always inferior? Could it never be me taking the superior role? I would certainly be uncomfortable with that role and I wouldn't want it. Does that close the matter and make me inferior then?
Maybe I'm only inferior on this primal instinctive sexual level. I don't think I'm a person unworthy of living, being happy or anything like that but I do find my joy in the service of men, in seeing them as above me.
The young man I've been talking to certainly connects with me on that level. He's not abusive in any way but, like me, sees me as inferior to him, like a pet human he would like to own, to have a bit of fun, experience power over another human being and generally use me to improve his life. It's a very utilitarian approach to ownership and one that I can understand very well. From my point of view, however, a Master means the beginning and end if it all, it means allowing myself to once again experience loyalty and devotion, being exclusive and all the rest. Am I ready for that again? Am I willing to put myself through all of that again?
Over the last few months I've made a few "friends". It's all very non-committal and I must admit it doesn't leave me thoroughly fulfilled. I yearn for a stronger connection but serving is maybe its own reward. Do I need to seek fulfilment? When they need me, I'm there, they generally leave satisfied and show that to me by wanting to come back again. Should I seek more? Can't it be enough to know that I have served even if the person I have served doesn't see me as a servant? Should I seek "the Connection" with an Owner? Do I need a man to acknowledge that he sees me as below him? Isn't it enough that I know this about myself? Should I draw the line at service or should I seek to be owned once more?
As always I have way more questions than I have answers.
Monday, August 18, 2014
the big C
There's been a little development lately.
In spite of my focus on providing service as a pleasure slave, I have recently been talking a lot to one particular man. A conversation that was initially about a very casual encounter, has evolved into something that's about as deep as I've gone with anyone in a long time and has brought up ownership again.
The man in question is much younger than me which has both fascinated me in terms of his enthusiasm and strong opinions and given me pause for thought. I have literally witnessed his discovery of his desire to own another human being.
As usual, when what happens to me involves someone else, I am reluctant to provide too much information about them other than what affects me directly and the thing that's definitely had a considerable effect on me is his growing interest in chastity.
From the beginning of our conversation he's been pointing out that if I'm interested in being a submissive and serving men, I should deny myself pleasure as much as possible. This has resonated with me a lot. I've always had an interest in the idea of chastity and have always thought that my own orgasms were a bit meaningless but I've always had, primarily, a weird physical response to it (ranging from discomfort to mild pain) and, secondarily, not much will power.
When chastity has been imposed on me by a man who had taken charge of me, I have accepted it and honoured the wishes of my betters (usually unaided by any device) but, to be perfectly honest, it has never occurred to me to self-impose chastity on myself.
And when this young man talks about chastity, he means Chastity with a capital C: permanent with no exceptions, no orgasms, no cum release, no prostate milking. The idea is that if you are a submissive you shouldn't be seeking pleasure for yourself or release any cum. You should give Men pleasure and that only Men should produce cum.
Is this an extreme position? I can't even tell anymore. It makes sense to me and it's humbling when someone considerably younger makes you open your eyes to something that you should have been onto for a while.
The question of whether permanent chastity is unhealthy is one that I haven't been able to find a definite answer to. Some advocate for the need to milk the prostate occasionally where others are sceptical of its importance.
Although any talk of ownership is currently on hold, I have been adhering to this new hardline for now coming up to 3 weeks. I had committed to those initially while ownership was being discussed. Even though it got postponed, I'm still sticking to my end of the bargain.
The first 10 days were probably the hardest but I seem to have settled into a good groove now and it does feel proper to focus on a Man's pleasure without seeking out any happy time of my own. This way, happy time is only when the Man i'm serving is experiencing pleasure and it feels good now to be focusing on that exclusively and accept that that's all there is for me.
I think very often people fetishise chastity -- I've done that for a long time too: you put on a chastity device and it's so hot you end up taking it off to have a wank. Waa-waa (sad trombone). I'm not claiming that this will be forever but for the moment it suits me fine and when I reach my mandatory 3 weeks, I'm not sure I will be in a hurry to stop. This constant state of horniness/frustration is a bit like being on a high. The hormones flow through me like drugs keeping me hypersensitive and making me refocus on my own life purpose as a submissive.
In spite of my focus on providing service as a pleasure slave, I have recently been talking a lot to one particular man. A conversation that was initially about a very casual encounter, has evolved into something that's about as deep as I've gone with anyone in a long time and has brought up ownership again.
The man in question is much younger than me which has both fascinated me in terms of his enthusiasm and strong opinions and given me pause for thought. I have literally witnessed his discovery of his desire to own another human being.
As usual, when what happens to me involves someone else, I am reluctant to provide too much information about them other than what affects me directly and the thing that's definitely had a considerable effect on me is his growing interest in chastity.
From the beginning of our conversation he's been pointing out that if I'm interested in being a submissive and serving men, I should deny myself pleasure as much as possible. This has resonated with me a lot. I've always had an interest in the idea of chastity and have always thought that my own orgasms were a bit meaningless but I've always had, primarily, a weird physical response to it (ranging from discomfort to mild pain) and, secondarily, not much will power.
When chastity has been imposed on me by a man who had taken charge of me, I have accepted it and honoured the wishes of my betters (usually unaided by any device) but, to be perfectly honest, it has never occurred to me to self-impose chastity on myself.
And when this young man talks about chastity, he means Chastity with a capital C: permanent with no exceptions, no orgasms, no cum release, no prostate milking. The idea is that if you are a submissive you shouldn't be seeking pleasure for yourself or release any cum. You should give Men pleasure and that only Men should produce cum.
Is this an extreme position? I can't even tell anymore. It makes sense to me and it's humbling when someone considerably younger makes you open your eyes to something that you should have been onto for a while.
The question of whether permanent chastity is unhealthy is one that I haven't been able to find a definite answer to. Some advocate for the need to milk the prostate occasionally where others are sceptical of its importance.
Although any talk of ownership is currently on hold, I have been adhering to this new hardline for now coming up to 3 weeks. I had committed to those initially while ownership was being discussed. Even though it got postponed, I'm still sticking to my end of the bargain.
The first 10 days were probably the hardest but I seem to have settled into a good groove now and it does feel proper to focus on a Man's pleasure without seeking out any happy time of my own. This way, happy time is only when the Man i'm serving is experiencing pleasure and it feels good now to be focusing on that exclusively and accept that that's all there is for me.
I think very often people fetishise chastity -- I've done that for a long time too: you put on a chastity device and it's so hot you end up taking it off to have a wank. Waa-waa (sad trombone). I'm not claiming that this will be forever but for the moment it suits me fine and when I reach my mandatory 3 weeks, I'm not sure I will be in a hurry to stop. This constant state of horniness/frustration is a bit like being on a high. The hormones flow through me like drugs keeping me hypersensitive and making me refocus on my own life purpose as a submissive.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
the stir
I'm continuing with my new enterprise as a pleasure slave.
After a long period of inactivity, things have been pretty busy and it's nice to be able to "feel" something again and rediscover part of me. I'm being deliberately and necessarily vague because I don't know what that feeling actually is. I realise that most things I do I experience in a very intimate and confusing way. I think I had forgotten this about myself during the time when everything seemed to be clear.
Guys come to see me and I give them my mouth to use for their pleasure. That's all I'm willing to do at the moment. When I was looking for a master, I felt I couldn't negotiate, I had to give all of myself but now I'm in a different transactional space where I feel able to state what I'm bringing to the table and the men I meet take it or leave it on that understanding. I will not let random guys fuck me because to me that's the mark of ownership and I don't take that lightly, but I'm more willing to allow men to use my mouth because that answers a deeply help need I have. I'm happy to admit that: this is not selfless.
Generally they are men who primarily lead a straight life, some are divorced, some have girlfriends.
Disclaimer: they really aren't as many as this makes it sound.
Without any intent to lessen other people's experiences (or primarily because I won't pretend to know what anyone else experiences, especially someone whose life perception is so vastly different from mine) I suspect that what they get out of the exchange is just that: the pleasure of the moment, getting off, perhaps emphasised by a feeling of control and dominance. But I don't know, I'm not in their heads.
What do I get, I ask myself. See, I can't even tell what I, myself, get. I can't quite put my finger on it. I get a good, deep stir, that's what I get. I remember those cartoons when I was a child where two characters get in a fight and it's represented by a dark cloud with random feet, hands and other bits sticking out of it. That's kind of the state I'm in after I've been stirred. Or like a glass of water with some muddy sediment at the bottom. I stir it and it all starts to swirl around and mix together until it all turns into a dark emulsion. Then, when it's all over, the sediment separates from the water again and it floats back down to the bottom of the glass leaving the water seemingly clean again. That's how I experience it, I go from a moment of apparent clarity where all the dark gooey shit is nowhere to be seen to another moment where it's suddenly all over the place and I can't see farther than my own nose.
Sometimes literally. ;-)
Then the sediment takes some time to gather again at the bottom of the glass and that is the intermediary phase I'm in now, the moment where I can start to look around me a little and even tell myself that I can make out what it is that makes up this goo. But then it's all back to the way it was. As it all slips through my fingers, nothing is retained and, with my feet ankle-deep in mud, I need a good stir again.
The stir goes by in a moment. I think. I'm in such a state of confusion when that happens that I couldn't say exactly what goes on. Or maybe I say that now because I'm in the after phase and I'm slightly disconnected from the experience. But I think it's primarily chaos, the gooey sediment spins and I'm caught in the vortex. I go with the flow and don't think about anything else.
But when the stir stops, that's when I start to feel. At first, I get a deep sense of accomplishment when my guests leave. For a brief, fleeting moment I feel fulfilled, centred. Whole. I have pleased. I've gone through it and I've proved myself and I've done well. But that feeling doesn't last long. When the water starts to clear, I start flashing back to what happened. People might be talking with me and quite suddenly I'm not there any more and I remember a movement, a snapshot, a sound. It comes back to me so suddenly that I completely disconnect for a moment and I have to struggle to not appear completely catatonic. Incidentally, I have no idea if I manage that at all. My interlocutors might be perfectly aware that I'm not there anymore. I can't tell because I'm obviously not there. But the initial sense of accomplishment is replaced by the immense distance that I feel from these men whose pleasure and satisfaction meant so much to me in the moment and are now gone. I vacillate between that satisfaction and a complete opposite feeling of loneliness and incompletability. Like a circle that you can never finish drawing because as you draw more of it, the other end of the line starts to fade.
But I look forward to these men returning, to once again stir the mud inside of me because their return gives me the validation that I need. It means I'm doing well.
After a long period of inactivity, things have been pretty busy and it's nice to be able to "feel" something again and rediscover part of me. I'm being deliberately and necessarily vague because I don't know what that feeling actually is. I realise that most things I do I experience in a very intimate and confusing way. I think I had forgotten this about myself during the time when everything seemed to be clear.
Guys come to see me and I give them my mouth to use for their pleasure. That's all I'm willing to do at the moment. When I was looking for a master, I felt I couldn't negotiate, I had to give all of myself but now I'm in a different transactional space where I feel able to state what I'm bringing to the table and the men I meet take it or leave it on that understanding. I will not let random guys fuck me because to me that's the mark of ownership and I don't take that lightly, but I'm more willing to allow men to use my mouth because that answers a deeply help need I have. I'm happy to admit that: this is not selfless.
Generally they are men who primarily lead a straight life, some are divorced, some have girlfriends.
Disclaimer: they really aren't as many as this makes it sound.
Without any intent to lessen other people's experiences (or primarily because I won't pretend to know what anyone else experiences, especially someone whose life perception is so vastly different from mine) I suspect that what they get out of the exchange is just that: the pleasure of the moment, getting off, perhaps emphasised by a feeling of control and dominance. But I don't know, I'm not in their heads.
What do I get, I ask myself. See, I can't even tell what I, myself, get. I can't quite put my finger on it. I get a good, deep stir, that's what I get. I remember those cartoons when I was a child where two characters get in a fight and it's represented by a dark cloud with random feet, hands and other bits sticking out of it. That's kind of the state I'm in after I've been stirred. Or like a glass of water with some muddy sediment at the bottom. I stir it and it all starts to swirl around and mix together until it all turns into a dark emulsion. Then, when it's all over, the sediment separates from the water again and it floats back down to the bottom of the glass leaving the water seemingly clean again. That's how I experience it, I go from a moment of apparent clarity where all the dark gooey shit is nowhere to be seen to another moment where it's suddenly all over the place and I can't see farther than my own nose.
Sometimes literally. ;-)
Then the sediment takes some time to gather again at the bottom of the glass and that is the intermediary phase I'm in now, the moment where I can start to look around me a little and even tell myself that I can make out what it is that makes up this goo. But then it's all back to the way it was. As it all slips through my fingers, nothing is retained and, with my feet ankle-deep in mud, I need a good stir again.
The stir goes by in a moment. I think. I'm in such a state of confusion when that happens that I couldn't say exactly what goes on. Or maybe I say that now because I'm in the after phase and I'm slightly disconnected from the experience. But I think it's primarily chaos, the gooey sediment spins and I'm caught in the vortex. I go with the flow and don't think about anything else.
But when the stir stops, that's when I start to feel. At first, I get a deep sense of accomplishment when my guests leave. For a brief, fleeting moment I feel fulfilled, centred. Whole. I have pleased. I've gone through it and I've proved myself and I've done well. But that feeling doesn't last long. When the water starts to clear, I start flashing back to what happened. People might be talking with me and quite suddenly I'm not there any more and I remember a movement, a snapshot, a sound. It comes back to me so suddenly that I completely disconnect for a moment and I have to struggle to not appear completely catatonic. Incidentally, I have no idea if I manage that at all. My interlocutors might be perfectly aware that I'm not there anymore. I can't tell because I'm obviously not there. But the initial sense of accomplishment is replaced by the immense distance that I feel from these men whose pleasure and satisfaction meant so much to me in the moment and are now gone. I vacillate between that satisfaction and a complete opposite feeling of loneliness and incompletability. Like a circle that you can never finish drawing because as you draw more of it, the other end of the line starts to fade.
But I look forward to these men returning, to once again stir the mud inside of me because their return gives me the validation that I need. It means I'm doing well.
Saturday, July 5, 2014
rise like a phoenix
I'm starting to move my first timid steps back into the world of Dominance and submission but not without a bit of a twist.
Over the last year I have been somewhat fascinated by something that I have come across and that I like to refer to as the 'fag mythology'. I will later on come back to look at this in more detail but, in a nutshell, I have noticed an increasing number of D/s sites and blogs centred around the mythological superiority of straight men over gay men and, by consequence, gay men's calling to live in service to them.
I must have stated this before but, being implicitly drawn to masculinity, straight men have always exerted significant appeal for me as the forbidden land of irresistible club-wielding beer-gulping, burping cavemen who watch sports games in their stained underwear.
I know, it's a horrible stereotype and I should really know better but I'm not as evolved as I like to let on and when dealing in fantasies, they tend to work better along un-nuanced black and white lines.
A few years ago I read a story by one of my favourite erotic writers out of an increasing contingent generously brought to us by the internet: Pete Brown. It was the story of an English electrician who moves to the Middle East to work on a lucrative contract for a multimillionaire slave-owning sultan and quickly adjusts to the local customs, accepting and actively engaging in the practice of slavery. As unlikely a premise as it may sound, it does make for rather compelling reading and Mr Brown is very good at creating rich and elaborate stories, albeit on a slightly repetitive template.
Part of the story is about a section of the sultan's palace where a selection of pleasure slaves are housed for the entertainment and comfort of the guests. The majestic residence has no shortage of servants in all types of roles but these slaves are trained exclusively for the sexual entertainment of the sultan's guests.
Something in that part of the story has always appealed to me. And it isn't just all the sex that's going on but, obviously, the underlying imbalance in the setup where one man is there to get off and the other's life revolves around being there to oblige. There is no violent bringing down of the slave but a very tactile exchange where the slave will even occasionally take the lead in ensuring that his visitor has a good time. I suppose it's not unlike the customer/whore scenario, with the only exception that here the slave gets no financial retribution: he's there to get the man off and when he's accomplished that, his job is done and the man leaves him there until another freeman needs him. Now, that sounds much better to me than a financial arrangement!
So these days I'm playing with that and indulging my little fantasy about straight men. I have figured that the world has no shortage of straight men who don't get as much head as they'd like, when they want and, out of those, a reasonable number will not be entirely averse to having a guy do that for them if it means they can have it whenever they want.
Enter moi.
However small you think the percentage of flexible straight guys is, it still works out to quite a few if you consider that there are a lot of straight people around! You quite literally can't swing a dead cat without hitting a few. The maths is sound, I'm telling you.
And it is entirely within my sphere of comfort to be available when these guys are in the mood, welcome them in my home, make them feel comfortable and give them what they are not getting enough of. When they are done, they feel satisfied, I feel good because I have proved useful and everyone is happy.
Obviously given that I am not a professional whore, I am limiting this arrangement to a very small number. I'm also favouring those who don't just want to get off but are a little responsive to the power dynamic. I'm fighting my natural urge to see only one man because I'm not looking for that level of exclusivity that in the past has been the cause of so much heartache but I'm once again allowing myself to feel that rush and that sense of accomplishment that comes from having served another's needs.
Having played the D/s game for a long time and having been stung so badly recently, this is currently as far as I'm willing to go. There are no slaves and no masters. All I need are a couple of good buddies to pop in every now and again. The when, as I've explained to them, is entirely up to them; within the constraints of when I am actually available - I know: bad, bad pleasure slave!
I've already met a couple of nice guys. One is getting more comfortable with the arrangement. He texts me when he's feeling horny and needs it taken care of. He's starting to refer to me as his little gay boy which I find cute and simultaneously kind of hot. Another guy I've seen once so far (this is all pretty new) but I had a very good time taking care of him.
One other guy I've only been talking to and is considerably more verbally dominant. I don't know if he's just talk or he'll come through. He does come up with some endearing names. He's referred to me as his cock pet, which I also found to neatly hit that cute/hot line.
This is what what I'm comfortable with at the moment, and I'm actually enjoying it. Gone are the days of emotionally consuming myself looking up to one Man to be the be-all and end-all of my submissive life. In the words of Frau Wurst, I rise, out of the ashes of my old slave self, a more confident person up for getting a bit of fun out of life and I've decided that there's nothing wrong with that.
Even for a submissive.
Over the last year I have been somewhat fascinated by something that I have come across and that I like to refer to as the 'fag mythology'. I will later on come back to look at this in more detail but, in a nutshell, I have noticed an increasing number of D/s sites and blogs centred around the mythological superiority of straight men over gay men and, by consequence, gay men's calling to live in service to them.
I must have stated this before but, being implicitly drawn to masculinity, straight men have always exerted significant appeal for me as the forbidden land of irresistible club-wielding beer-gulping, burping cavemen who watch sports games in their stained underwear.
I know, it's a horrible stereotype and I should really know better but I'm not as evolved as I like to let on and when dealing in fantasies, they tend to work better along un-nuanced black and white lines.
A few years ago I read a story by one of my favourite erotic writers out of an increasing contingent generously brought to us by the internet: Pete Brown. It was the story of an English electrician who moves to the Middle East to work on a lucrative contract for a multimillionaire slave-owning sultan and quickly adjusts to the local customs, accepting and actively engaging in the practice of slavery. As unlikely a premise as it may sound, it does make for rather compelling reading and Mr Brown is very good at creating rich and elaborate stories, albeit on a slightly repetitive template.
Part of the story is about a section of the sultan's palace where a selection of pleasure slaves are housed for the entertainment and comfort of the guests. The majestic residence has no shortage of servants in all types of roles but these slaves are trained exclusively for the sexual entertainment of the sultan's guests.
Something in that part of the story has always appealed to me. And it isn't just all the sex that's going on but, obviously, the underlying imbalance in the setup where one man is there to get off and the other's life revolves around being there to oblige. There is no violent bringing down of the slave but a very tactile exchange where the slave will even occasionally take the lead in ensuring that his visitor has a good time. I suppose it's not unlike the customer/whore scenario, with the only exception that here the slave gets no financial retribution: he's there to get the man off and when he's accomplished that, his job is done and the man leaves him there until another freeman needs him. Now, that sounds much better to me than a financial arrangement!
So these days I'm playing with that and indulging my little fantasy about straight men. I have figured that the world has no shortage of straight men who don't get as much head as they'd like, when they want and, out of those, a reasonable number will not be entirely averse to having a guy do that for them if it means they can have it whenever they want.
Enter moi.
However small you think the percentage of flexible straight guys is, it still works out to quite a few if you consider that there are a lot of straight people around! You quite literally can't swing a dead cat without hitting a few. The maths is sound, I'm telling you.
And it is entirely within my sphere of comfort to be available when these guys are in the mood, welcome them in my home, make them feel comfortable and give them what they are not getting enough of. When they are done, they feel satisfied, I feel good because I have proved useful and everyone is happy.
Obviously given that I am not a professional whore, I am limiting this arrangement to a very small number. I'm also favouring those who don't just want to get off but are a little responsive to the power dynamic. I'm fighting my natural urge to see only one man because I'm not looking for that level of exclusivity that in the past has been the cause of so much heartache but I'm once again allowing myself to feel that rush and that sense of accomplishment that comes from having served another's needs.
Having played the D/s game for a long time and having been stung so badly recently, this is currently as far as I'm willing to go. There are no slaves and no masters. All I need are a couple of good buddies to pop in every now and again. The when, as I've explained to them, is entirely up to them; within the constraints of when I am actually available - I know: bad, bad pleasure slave!
I've already met a couple of nice guys. One is getting more comfortable with the arrangement. He texts me when he's feeling horny and needs it taken care of. He's starting to refer to me as his little gay boy which I find cute and simultaneously kind of hot. Another guy I've seen once so far (this is all pretty new) but I had a very good time taking care of him.
One other guy I've only been talking to and is considerably more verbally dominant. I don't know if he's just talk or he'll come through. He does come up with some endearing names. He's referred to me as his cock pet, which I also found to neatly hit that cute/hot line.
This is what what I'm comfortable with at the moment, and I'm actually enjoying it. Gone are the days of emotionally consuming myself looking up to one Man to be the be-all and end-all of my submissive life. In the words of Frau Wurst, I rise, out of the ashes of my old slave self, a more confident person up for getting a bit of fun out of life and I've decided that there's nothing wrong with that.
Even for a submissive.
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