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.

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.