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.
No comments:
Post a Comment