the eternal teenager

i think i've never quite evolved past the stage of being a teenager, with all the drama, the emotional immaturity, the rashed decisions, the misalignment of my problems and those of the real world. In the face of all evidence pointing to the fact that a certain decision is stupid, i still take it because that's what i want to do.

This trip coming up is a perfect example. But teenagers generally have parents who tell them "no fucking way, you're not missing school days to go to Scotland, go to your room and finish your homework" whereas i don't have that.

But i have friends who display parent-like common sense, and just like as a teen i would have planned to do something like this behind my parents' back, i have kept my mouth shut with those friends about anything involving Glasgow. I have only told other friends, the ones who'll be on my side. Not the friends who tell me that smoking is bad, but the ones who sneak out of class with me to go smoking in the toilets.

I want to take my stupid decisions and make my mistakes without too much interference or maybe i'm just crying out for someone to come and tell me "no fucking way, you're not missing school days to go to Scotland".

what am i doing

This morning I woke up feeling very nervous about my trip to Glasgow. But my stomach wasn't the the only part of me to be all tensed up. On Friday i spoke to David about the fact that i'll be there. He was a little taken aback at first but later understood my reasons and said "of course" he will meet me when i'm there.

I have become reluctant to refer to him as my Master any more on here as i have doubts about any long-term arrangements, but i had missed him very much and was very happy to chat with him again but i fear i've invested so much emotionally in this whole story that at times I'm forced to stop and wonder: what am i doing?

It does seem i've pushed myself quite far out there with the trip, the long-distance ownership that at some point i'll have to try and figure out if this is going anywhere. But right now the main thing is i will meet him face to face and i will find out if the bond that has developed online will at all translate to proper real-life chemistry. He seems quite positive about it but i've had so many experiences go wrong in this area that i'm reluctant to be overly confident.

But this afternoon the cashier at Borders said: have a good time in Glasgow - which took me by surprise and i considered a good sign. Of course, this may have had something to do with the fact i had just bought a little travel guide to the city, but hearing the words come out of her mouth made it all sound real.

take a chance

My friend Martin thinks i take bad decisions. I've said this before and i'll say it again: my friend Martin thinks i take BAD decisions.

Earlier today, as i succumbed to the morning cigarette loner-look nostalgia (i actually went out and bought my own pack - which i have readily given away) i once again found myself at the corner of Depression Road and Lonely Lane and i indulged in the little relaxation that tobacco has to offer me when, in the haze of a nicotine-drenched moment, the idea struck me: i should go to Glasgow.

i have to find out if words such as "if you were here it would be different" mean something real. Not knowing is no longer an option for me, nor is waiting any further. So i thought i should be there for a couple of days. It doesn't mean i have to see him the whole time and if things don't go well, i might only see him once. If they go well, he might want to see me more. But i have to give it a try and find out.

So i went online and bought myself a plane ticket and from thursday to saturday next week, i'll be in Glasgow, available for him if he wants to meet me. If not I'll have some time to do my Christmas shopping and there must be other things to do in Glasgow that can keep me busy for a couple of days.

With hindsight, this may not have been my most carefully considered plan but in the moment the idea of going made me smile again, it made me feel excited and, if nothing else, it was worth it because of that.

four

The number of cigarettes i smoked today. 4 up from yesterday, but only 1 more than my last lowly day. It happened this morning when it occurred to me while regurgitating one of David's messages that "i'll be gone from this Friday till next" didn't mean he had distractedly forgotten to type the day he'd return but that he'd be gone a whole week. i started feeling this sense of nausea gripping me from the inside as i realised that the number of days that we actually have available to meet, if he wants to, is getting uncomfortably low and i had to get away from the office to get some air. Air.

A few years ago, during the whole L disaster, that's when i took up smoking again after keeping off it for about 10 years. And it took me about a year to quit again. It's a horrible habit, i know, but what can i say, it truly comforts me in certain moments. More so if you don't normally smoke, you feel the effect right away, your blood vessels decontract and you get a bit of a head rush. We are after all constantly reminded by the media that it's a drug and everyone knows that sometimes a poor soul needs drugs.

There's also something else, and i thought of it this morning as i was considering whether i'd be blogging about this. Am i really 100% honest on here? Or do i filter out what would make me appear at my most pathetic? Like suicidal thoughts. I think of that. And this morning I really would have wanted an easy way out of everything. Something that would make me sleep and gently slow down my heart rate till i can finally relax and let go.

And i so hope no one will have the great idea of sending me a message telling me how it's not worth it. I truly don't want to hear that. But what struck me this morning, as i was having my solitary cigarette on the pavement outside my office, is how there's really no joy in my life at the present moment. Sure, i do fine, i have nice people around me, i'm not starving or have any deadly disease. But i'm talking about joy. There is none in me. And the joy that i suddenly felt talking to David, that crept up on me unannounced and startled me, that's a drug that you truly ought to be wary of and that's what's now turning into this sour disappointment.

So you see, when this is what's flowing in your veins, when these are the thoughts that you start your day with - whatever harm a cigarette can do to you doesn't seem so serious to make you question your right to allow yourself that little comfort.

pictures of you

It continues to be hard to find the determination to put too much effort in gym training. I manage to drag my tired arse there but as soon as i start and thoughts begin to flow through my head i start feeling that i don't care and it's difficult to continue.

At times i'm more upset than others, sometimes i feel that if things are not going to happen and i'm not going to get to see him, it doesn't matter, it means he doesn't really want it and it's ok if i can't give him what he doesn't really want but at other times i'm overwhelmed by this terrible sadness that grips me and suggest that all the expectations, the things we've said to each other, it's all going to vanish into nothingness.

Yet i can't simply say it's over, i feel that i have to ok it with him. He has to tell me that it's over, and then i'll know it is. In the meantime, i miss him so badly and how much i miss him now pales to nothing next to the thought that we might not actually meet at all. It gives me a great sense of loss. I realise it sounds stupid - i'll never meet someone i've never met, but it makes me feel terrible. The way he talked to me, i thought he was the other side of my medal, my opposite, and i thought he would become so much more. But i'm just left with this messy mix of feelings turning from sadness, into resignation, then anger, then confusion.

Ironically, as i write this, an old Cure song's playing

i've been looking so long at these pictures of you
that i almost belive that they're real
i've been living so long with my pictures of you
that i almost believe that the pictures are all i can feel

patterns

It's become very difficult this last couple of days to keep working out. My resolve to work on improving my body has waned a little as my strengths have sort of drained out of me. I feel that i need to find a solution to the current situation or reach some sort of clear closure but even communicating with David is not very easy, nor is having some proper time to get to anything resembling a conclusion.

This is the weekend that i was supposed to be in Glasgow and the fact that he's on a holiday with his boyfriend instead keeps messing with my head. i have no intention of getting involved in a situation with a boyfriend who doesn't know about me. I hate to have to be this assertive but he must take a decision and can't keep me in this limbo for much longer.

As i approach possibly the end of this ownership that's never had a proper chance to lift off, i feel emptied and disappointed. I know, though, that i'll keep following my heart in these matters, taking bad decision after bad decision. That seems to be my pattern and i'm resigned to it.

over?

There is one thing that can be safely said about me. I can't be trusted to make my own decisions and know what's best for me. This is why i'm meant to be a slave, have someone in charge of me to take all these decisions. Unfortunately to get to the stage of being a slave, you have got to have taken decisions before so it's kind of a catch 22 situation.

Today i feel better. I've had a very dark 24 hours during which i have considered this story from top to bottom and i've come to the conclusion that i won't let it end on account of circumstances. If he wants it to end, it's fine, because it means that he doesn't want me and my submissiveness feeds on a man's desire to own me - but if he tells me he does want me, as he does, and he doesn't want it to end, then we must meet face to face to find out if anything is there. We MUST.

It's a very pragmatic and atypically assertive approach i'm taking but i have to follow my heart and the happiness i feel when he talks to me, i have to allow myself this. I will see what comes but tonight my outlook is brightened up by a certain degree of hope. You want to call it delusion? Be my guest - i'm in half a mind to call it that too but tonight it doesn't matter because delusion may be just the cement i needed to fill my void.

o. v. e. r.

All good things must come to an end. Unfortunately even those which have barely had time to start. On the day that i found my Master again, and that i heard his voice for the first time, i also lost him again and probably for good.

The silence had reasons, the absence from slave4master did too but what cannot be explained is how i can be this man's slave when i can never see him. As things seem set to get even worse with a jealous, possessive boyfriend in the picture that he is soon to move in with, it seems time to call a spade a spade and admit that this is never going to happen.

The hard decision was taken in a chaos of calls that kept coming from a friend who i haven't spoken to for over a year. Calls that i kept missing so that i could keep talking to my master. The master that i felt so meant to serve, that i wanted so badly to belong to, in spite of the impossible distance, and that is now disappearing out of sight.

Once again i'm in this situation. It makes me angry with myself and it leaves a massive void inside of me, like a bite taken out of me, a void that i know far too well, that pulls everything destructively into it and that it's hard to even want to try and fill with anything else. The pain is silent and sharp and hurts inside my stomach.

The weekend that i was meant to meet him, that he was supposed to pick my collar, look into my eyes and make me his own, the weekend that i had waited for so impatiently for over a month, he will spend on a holiday with his boyfriend. Talk about a let down.

I look at myself now, at the body that i was training according to his requests, that i was keeping the way he wanted. I look at it and its meaninglessness sickens me.

As the chat was ended abruptly by him getting disconnected and i finally picked up the phone to stop the incessant series of calls, my eyes swelled up and with a broken voice i spoke to my old friend and told him about the man who had now gone.

roadkill

As the days go by, my initial disoriented disappointment is turning into more of a concern that something might be wrong with my Master. Deluded? Perhaps. I will admit it's certainly easier to imagine that circumstances out of his control are preventing him from making himself heard but, to be fair, he hasn't logged in to his slave4master profile in over a week and that in itself is rather odd.

Maybe i'm finding excuses for him, or for me. In any case, i've given myself to him as his slave and i owe it to him to give him my trust and the benefit of the doubt. I don't think i'll take on suggestions i've received that i should look for another owner, however much i know they are meant for my own good out of genuine concern that i may be hurting over my Master's apparent defection. For now my loyalty remains with my Owner, where it should lie. If i'm to be available for another man's service, it's up to my Owner to set me free for that.

It may sound loyal, stupid, crazy, deluded, all these things at the same time - but think about it: what other option do i have? If i am to accept that he has lied and led me on all this time, it means that i can't and i don't really want to trust someone else. If i am to accept the fact that he's been dishonest with me, then there's really nothing i want to do. I don't want to see another master.

It's unfortunate that i'm so often in this situation of having to wait long periods of time for owners that disappear for a while, it's happened with both my major Masters in the past - but it's a side effect of the concept of loyalty to an owner - if he goes, he goes. i can only hope that he comes back.

It's true, i feel - as i always do in these situations - a bit like a pup that's been left by the side of the road but i'll do what any pup will do in the same situation, the only option i have: i'll wait for my Master to come back.

the throb

At times i'm overcome with a great sense of sadness. it's a feeling of complete and utter disorientation. My need to be taken care of, looked after and guided pulsates in my temples. I never admit it on here, that i need to be taken care of, it sounds so self-centred, but it's true. I feel so completely lost in the face of all this uncertainty around me and i need someone to care, take this weight off me and become a centre that i can simply gravitate around.

But i open msn, and he's not there but my name is his name and it makes a mockery of me.

the brother

I had a dream last night - it turned into kind of a fantasy this morning, in fact i'm not sure where the dream ended and the active fantasising began but the dream involved being a slave in a family of three - mother, father and son - serving all three in the home, although i clearly avoided imagining any "personal" services that involved the woman in the family. The father and son gave me a bit more work but the focus of it all was the son.

Towards the awake part of all this, one further element came in the picture: i had been bought as a present for the son when he was still a child and i was about his age.

What stirred me the most was the unjustness of growing up next to a boy my age but as his slave, being taught and disciplined by him and his parents so that we both would learn the difference in our positions and i'd learn to always obey and serve my "brother".

I still haven't heard from my Master since not getting his call the other day. I have been advised to reconsider my loyalty to him, something which, i'm aware myself, seems reasonable, however hard i oppose to this thought.

I haven't approached this very rationally, but, like most things i do, i got emotionally carried away, disregarding the obvious difficulty of a long-distance M/s relationship for the simple reason that i became so deeply infatuated with him. Now i'm being forced to ask myself if he is as serious about this as i am and i'm waiting and hoping that he'll forcefully and unmistakably tell me he is.

the other me

My boyfriend has been gone for so long that i don't know what things will be like when he comes back. On the one hand it seems to me that we can't go back exactly to where we were before he left to do his research now a year and a half ago.

Maybe we will seamlessly fall back into our old routine but i have my doubts. For one thing, my understanding of my need to serve has become stronger over this time and i think he realises that, or at least he realises it's there to stay.

The relationship we had before he left is going to have to change towards understanding that a Master's role - given that a meaningful M/s relationship develops for me - is going to be important in my life. it's not a hobby that i dedicate time to every now and again (which is sort of how he's seen this in the past), but this person is going to be important for me and will occupy, even dominate, areas that were previously my and my boyfriend's territory.

I realise this puts a strain on my relationship with him but it's quite clear to me that it can't be avoided and i think he will understand - or at least try to. This will mean clearly defining the areas that are ours alone. It's quite a hard task and i'm aware i'm not making his life very easy but i don't have a back-up plan for now.

anticlimax

sad

waiting for the call

Tonight I'm due to talk to my Master for the first time. I'm feeling very anxious waiting for his call. The other day I was talking to a friend about this new development with my new distant Owner and he was very surprised when i told him we hadn't met. So he said: "But you have spoken on the phone, right!?" and i said... er, yes. I have no idea why i did that and i felt stupid lying about it but i feel so insecure about this whole thing that i couldn't face someone else questioning how i can say he's my owner when we haven't even spoken. I get this from all over the place, not to mention from inside my own head so i couldn't take another adverse comment: i needed a more supportive and understanding response. My interlocutor seemed reassured by my answer, so being deceitful works.

Some will say i'm in denial, i would answer that i don't care, but i would find it hard to defend this assertion considering the web of lies i've become entangled in. I've based my choices so far on an online chat. Maybe it wasn't the wisest thing to do but it's what i have decided to do and i don't want to have to defend it before people all day long.

As the time quickly approaches 10.30pm and my phone lies silent on the table next to me, the doubt insinuates that the call might not come at all today. It's a possibility that will force me again to consider if i've been right to allow myself to be swept off my feet by this virtual presence that i'm so waiting to see burst into my tangible world with one powerful leap.

If the call doesn't come, it won't be the end of the word. I'm not the sort of person who'll say "you didn't call and now it's over" but it will put a nail in the coffin of this ownership's credibility. I'm putting so much hope into what's looked from the beginning as a very unlikely development and now i'm hoping that he will, with one gesture, come to my rescue to show that i did right trusting my instincts.

In the meantime my friend is going to find out about my little lie when he reads this, but i'll feel better if he knows anyway. Sorry, B.

there's fetish and fetish

The other day I was talking to a friend about the fact that i don't like Hard On. Like i've said before, i was quite disappointed to find that it wasn't at all a place for Masters and slaves but simply a sex club - and quite a camp one at that. I dream of a place where the dynamics of dominance and submission integrate seamlessly into the regular running of things, just like any other fact of life and Hard On is not it. My friend's way of summarising this was another. He said: that's not fetish.

Fetish, like session (or sesh) is one of those words i don't use a lot. I'm not sure why. I think it's because it makes everything sound unreal whereas i, as i was saying, keep chasing a reality that accepts and understands D/s.

But this idea that somehow for me it's not about fetish is really a fantasy. Of course it's a fetish. It's just that my fetish is not leather, rubber, boots - although boots are kind of cool. What i fetishise is anything to do with domination - collars, chains, restraints - and masculinity - which in my mind translates not so much as leather garments but sportswear.

This week i bought a pair of shox. When i took them out of the box i couldn't get my eyes off them, the shiny surface, the curves, the smell, the fabric.

Naaa... that's not fetish at all, is it.

73

Talking to a friend the other day about his age range of interest i thought a bit about age and preferences. My friend Ben is probably right to say that i'm quite restrictive when it comes to my preferences in Masters but these preferences are not written in stone, although i can't deny that i have an ideal in mind that i'm naturally drawn to.

i remember sitting in my kitchen at the age of 16 discussing with a friend whether it's possible to fall in love with someone you don't know. If you have developed any idea about the person behind this blog, you must have guessed that i was the person defending the seemingly absurd idea that it is indeed possible to fall in love with someone you don't know. I must admit I probably do these things out of a desire to contradict, build up a debate. Whatever my motives, my reasoning was that of course you can because we're always attaching qualities to people and in fact, the least we know about a person, the more we can make them exactly the way we'd like them to be and at that point, how difficult is it to fall in love with this idealised persona. Whether those feelings would survive being confronted with the flesh and bones of the individual in question is another matter altogether, but your feelings are your own, you make them, all the chemicals and electricity that shoot all over the place inside your brain and cause you to feel are yours.

When i was a child, i was sent to school a whole year early so i grew up surrounded by boys who were all a year older than me. Whatever i did, i could never outgrow them, i was always the little one and they were always a bit stronger, a bit taller, a bit more. Maybe there's a bit of that in it too, i'm always attracted to men who are about one or two years older than me, and every time i see someone i like, i immediately assume that they must be about my age but a bit older -- unless it's blatantly obvious that they are like 12. In fact it always takes me by surprise, when i realise that someone i like is in fact younger than me. I'm unprepared for it and it always leaves me feeling a bit unprepared.

i have discussed my idealised Master with my therapist, the fact that he is my alter-ego, a mirrored reflection of me, he is another me, but with all the qualities that i lack: he's strong where i'm weak, dominant where i'm submissive, firm where i'm laid-back. He's the me that i'm not - and for this reason i bow down to his will and let him be in charge of that which is his by right: me.

trust

The days I'm spending in expectation of meeting my new Master are going by slowly, some more than others. My Master has found out about my blog and seemed quite pleased about it so i think He will let me continue to write it.

At times i can't help but ask myself what exactly i'm expecting out of this long-distance involvement. i'm wary of calling it a relationship because i hesitate to raise my gaze too high or allow myself to think too much of it, not in terms of time (which would be a lost battle) but in terms of its intensity.

i'm a bit like a kid who's afraid to trust. So he stands in a corner waiting for a tell-tale sign to understand if he can, or not, trust. At times i'm besotted by his charisma and force of character, but then his absence and distance leave me time enough to raise my barriers and questions again.

The trust that's so hard to give into, is not trust in Him, but rather trust in myself and in the belief, i keep toying with, that being His slave in spite of all the airmiles between us, is possible.

I wait and wait for the day that we will be face to face, confident that on that day i will know and have all the answers. Whether that's true is questionable but for the time being that's one belief i've decided to trust.

unlimited

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the lacewing

In the bathroom in my office lives a little lacewing. I noticed her yesterday when she was looking rather healthy. I initially hassled her a little and tested her strength directing the hand dryer nozzle straight at her from a little distance to see if i could get her to fly off the wall but she staunchly clung to the tiles in spite of her wings trembling in the hot air flow. So i left filled with respect for the winner of our little game. Throughout the day, whenever i was in the bathroom, i'd keep checking where she was at, she was constantly switching position, facing the wall one time and the middle of the room another, sometimes near the ceiling, other times closer to us floor-walkers.

Today i found her there again but this time she wasn't looking very fresh at all. She didn't switch position at all. All day she kept her spot high up in the corner near the ceiling with her face stuck in the corner. I felt very sorry for her, such a short life spent locked in an office bathroom. I would have liked to try and get her out of there but i doubt i would have managed to do much good as i'm very clumsy around insects.

As i looked at her in her little corner, i remembered writing yesterday "i sit in my corner feeling miserable" and my sense of kinship with her grew stronger.

I too, sometimes, feel like that little lacewing: small and powerless, isolated, unable to communicate, locked in without a way out and incapable of breaking out of my circle of ever deepening immobility. And, like her, i feel like i might as well be staring at a blank wall for endless hours because i've lost the will and the energy to do anything else.

Our lives are like this sometimes, we cross many other lives but we are ultimately our own body and our own self. Our body is in itself a barrier that prevents us from ever truly knowing what life's like inside the person sitting next to us. So we touch and we affect each other, leave a footprint on someone else's lawn but the whole thing boils down to its characteristic and intrinsic loneliness.

Now you've guessed it. i haven't heard from my Master yet.

the fraud

Tonight a man kindly said he thought i had the heart of a slave. I feel touched when people say that but i don't know how i feel about it, if i think it's true or not. At times i feel like a fraud, at times like this when my Master has ignored me and i feel that my feelings have been hurt. The lesson that a slave is irrelevant when not needed is one that's not easily learnt for me and like a hurt pup i sit in my corner feeling miserable, waiting for my Master to return.

At times like this i don't feel cut out to be a slave, i just feel emotionally immature and codependent. i'm not very good at suppressing these emotions that i recognise as overly self-centred to be those of a good slave whose only concern should be his Master's pleasure.

So i try to teach myself to get over myself, i remind myself that all of this is irrelevant and that all this sadness will vanish the minute He addresses me again.

in the balance

It's very easy to hurt. When you're addicted to vulnerability it's so easy to get hurt. Every time it's an impossible balance to manage: how much can you give and how much can you take. You put yourself in someone's hands and it's dangerous. Your feelings can be crushed like bubble wrap. And they so often do. So easily. You tell yourself you won't make the same mistakes again but soon enough the void is calling you again and you jump to dive deeper and deeper, lower and lower into a bottomless pit.

It's me, also. i'm so easily hurt that perhaps choosing the irrelevance of life as a slave is not the wisest choice. Anyway, not one that i've made. It has come to me and i've simply accepted. Or something like that. My acceptance is not complete because every time i don't know how much i can give and how much i can take.

the subversive submissive ©

My friend B told me yesterday that he has a new nick for me: the subversive submissive. B is the Master i met a year and a half ago [link] and later became someone i was simply giving head to when he was in the mood [link]. The slave/not-slave, friendly/detached situation eventually came to a breakdown and we moved our relationship to a more friendly basis. He is someone who likes to understand people so he has a way of asking questions and formulating theories that is very characteristic of him.

He often questions me in regards to my desire to be a slave and later presents me with his interpretation on the basis of what i have told him. His usual point is that he finds that i'm quite rigid. He says i have certain expectations of a Master that are very strict. One such example is the fact that i don't like a Master to give me a blow job, i wouldn't want to fuck my Master, in fact to be honest, i don't even like to consider the idea that my Master might like to get fucked or be submissive to anyone.

It's true, i find the idea somewhat disturbing and to be perfectly honest i'm not sure there's anything really wrong with it. As a slave, i see myself as 100% submissive and passive and the man i worship and serve has to be 100% active and dominant. I don't know if there's anything weird about this way of seeing things, but it is the way i see them and i don't think i should do something to modify it. Now, if i say this, he'll say that's a very assertive/dominant comment on my part and that makes me a slave who "dominates from the bottom".

i don't subscribe to this point of view. I think i need to live my slavery on the ideal premise that the 2 figures, Master and slave, complement each other forming a perfect unit that's unbreakable. Seamless. I know these are all utopian ideals but thinking that my Master would want to get fucked tarnishes this shiny metal image with the more uncertain life-like hues that have no place in this perfectly balanced world made of tops and bottoms, Masters and slaves, perfect fits. The fantasy, or the lifestyle, are built around this ideal of super-human manliness that's almost god-like. I realise they're big shoes to fill but it's what creates the magic -- the idea that to a slave, his Master is everything, infalllible and perfect: The Man. So, yes, that's rigid but the terms Master and slave have an intrinisic rigidity that makes them what they are and can't be taken out of them.

So he mocks me for my resolute decisiveness in expressing what i want. Maybe that makes me subversive in some way but I don't think that being submissive means i have to go along with whatever anyone is saying. i may have a tendency towards submissiveness in various areas of my life, but ultimately there's only one person that i have to be fully to.

the importance of symbols

i've always considered myself not to be a gearhead. If i look at a man's profile, and he has pictures in leather i'll actually find it less interesting than a man in plain casual clothes and i've always been rather unmoved by large displays of toy collections. However, there is one object that evokes a very strong response on my part, that focuses and embodies all that submission represents for me: the collar.

I just love collars. I have been involved in scenes where no collar was present and it just ain't the same. Large and heavy, made of hard leather, as soon as a master places his collar around my neck, it's immediate bliss for me. Total peace of mind and nothing else matters. The joy is difficult to express, the security of feeling it there when i move my head and knowing that only one person can put it on or take it off and it's as if the hand of my Master extended to hold me and give me strength all the time.

I've often fantasised about receiving a symbolic permanent collar by a Master, like a metal ring or a little chain, that is welded shut so that the only way to take it off is to break it. The collar could remain on me throughout the whole length of my service and could be a constant reminder of the man who owns me.

obedience is bliss

Last weekend I have talked online to somebody new. I'll start by saying that i have been wrong about this sort of thing millions of times. But i don't care because each new coin toss has no history. And i don't care because if i did i wouldn't even try to talk to new masters and i wouldn't hope i might meet the one that i'll want to give myself to. But i do. You see, under all the depressive bullshit, i'm an optimist at heart. Either that or i'm deluded. Or in denial. Or both, why not. Whatever. Truth is, this man has truly captured my mind. And i mean truly captured it. I have barely been able to think of anything else since last saturday.

The complication this time, the fly in the ointment, as some would say, is that he's hundreds of miles away. It's not an irremediable distance where you make your peace with it and don't think about it, like australia or japan and he's not merely at an inconvenient distance, like, say, surrey or somewhere else like that that's just annoyingly far. He's at a considerable but manageable distance: in Scotland.

He's offered to take me as his slave, and i've accepted. i don't know why. I have no idea how this is going to work, if i'm going, if he's coming, when, how often. i just know that after talking to him, i felt that i wanted to do it, i wanted to be his slave.

And just as he came into being, his absence became very obvious and was felt very strongly. As my pubes are once again clear, as per his desires, i look at the freshly shaved area and it's my only point of contact with my new Master that i have yet to meet.

hit (on) and run

Over the last 2 weeks i've been approached by a few people who've expressed interest but then, as i replied showing my own interest and came closer to arranging an actual meet, have started blanking me.

Apart from the obvious rudeness - but i'll even accept some people would argue that a slave shouldn't assume he'll be treated politely - it seems an utter waste of everyone's time. If you want to chat and wank, there are lots of places online that are dedicated to that or, at the very least, you could be open and say it. i might even be less sincere, say the right things and accommodate a man's fantasy if i knew he was only interested in a wank rather than an actual real life encounter.

accueil

Today i saw him again. My ghost. L. Every time it's like an exercise in introspection, like putting myself under the microscope and trying to understand how i respond. The big infatuation is clearly behind me but i would be lying if i didn't admit to myself that he still stirs something up in me, i just have no word for what it is. These days i really wouldn't want to be his slave and i wouldn't want to be his lover or his boyfriend. But I would want to be held, in silence, for a little while, to allow all those feelings i had for him to finally seep out of me. Cry them out. i wish that he could simply accept them, acknowledge them, receive them, after denying them any expression for so long. They've stagnated in me for so long that it would do me a lot of good to clear them out.

the first time i came

The first time i came i was about 12. With me it didn't happen, as with a lot of people, in a dream, in fact, unlike --i imagine-- a lot of people, it didn't even happen in connection with anything clearly sexual but, you'll be surprised to read, in relation to thoughts that involved humiliation and submission.

I was home from school one morning, i can't remember why, and my mind had conjured up this whole exoticist fantasy that involved being stranded on a desert island and found and captured by the natives who were all young savage bare-chested men, as it happens.

As I was tied and taken to their leader, another greased up muscled stud sat on some stone throne, i was made to kneel and pushed forward with a kick to my back so that i would fall flat on my stomach with my face inches from his feet.

All i did, and now tell me what pubescent boy hasn't, is i took off my shirt and was enacting falling flat on my chest with my hands tied behind my back. As i did that, i noticed that the impact of my pelvic area with the ground was causing some peculiar sensations. Pleasurable enough, in fact, to convince me to repeat this fall another couple of times, until, on the third or fourth impact i came in my pants uncertain as to what had happened but somehow suspecting that i might need to wash up.

the dark side

I remember last year, when i was kept in chastity, i used to wake up at night dead horny. I remember how, unable to touch my dick but allowed to stimulate my arse, my focus had completely shifted and, as a person normally uninterested in doing much with my bum, i would wake up, often several nights in a row, having no choice but to reach out for a dildo. I would then proceed to massacre my hole with it until i would reach some sense of accomplishment. I had become completely receptive in my sexuality and it was a feeling i was happy and content with. The sexual frustration had become a familiar feeling. For me it spelt slavery, it symbolised my being owned, and i was happy to be kept that way. I sort of miss that now, though clearly i'm not going to put myself through chastity of my own volition -- i lack self-discipline when not owned. Like when i was a child and i would never do my homework unsupervised.

snip or not

Today, after much looking around, i found a doctor who told me what i wanted to hear.

For a long time i've had a small problem with my penis: a very tight foreskin that doesn't retract fully when i'm erect and a very short frenulum that makes any attempt at stretching the foreskin quite painful. The obvious option that a lot of doctors have suggested to me was circumcision but i've always found that very old school, and a rather extreme remedy. Plus, I don't know how i feel about circumcised dicks. Well, i know that my preference is for natural uncut dicks even though i have to admit that circumcised dicks look very clean and tidy.

So I've tried several options: i've tried much advocated stretching techniques with the help of a topical steroid ointment but they've been quite unsuccessful because although they seemed to be having an effect on the foreskin, i later discovered the frenulum problem which they weren't very helpful for.

So i started considering surgery. But which surgery? Like i've said a lot of doctors were suggesting circumcision as a solution, but they always struck me as not really wanting to spend too much time thinking about the problem and i didn't want to go chopping off bits of me because of a doctor that has other things to think about. At the same time, online a lot of articles seemed to discredit circumcision in favour of other more conservative procedures. So i kept shopping around for second and third opinions and today i finally found a doctor who felt, like me, that full circumcision may be unnecessary.

And it's really odd because it really is like shopping: shopping for a new penis. What cut shall i go for? Is circumcision in or out? And frenuloplasty? The new black? As always all these decisions leave me so uncertain and i swing from one position to the other. It would be easier to have someone who could take this decision for me but, unfortunately, that's not the case and opinions are quite diverging. My bf is quite pro-circ, or rather, has no strong anti-circumcision feeling, whereas L is strongly against it, he keeps saying it doesn't look good, that the change of skin tone makes it look like a mutilatation. He has quite strong opinions about things. Personally, I am trying to keep as much of myself as i came with, though i also ask myself: what's more slave? Cut or uncut? Cut doesn't exactly facilitate masturbation so it could be a way to limit my ability to self-centeredly indulge in it. But who would i be doing it for? Plus, a lot of cut people manage very well, i'm sure, to please themselves.

So the doubt remains and i could use some advice...

Cut the foreskin: Yes or No?
	Yes (Circumcision)
	No (Frenuloplasty)
	No (Keep stretching)
Free polls from Pollhost.com

the escape

Possibly one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life. Tonight. I must start listening to my instincts a bit more. I've been telling myself i should trust chemistry, ownership can't be forced and instead, after a very friendly first encounter that spelt very little Master/slave interaction, i agreed to a more full-on indoors second encounter, despite feeling uncertain about it and not really wanting to go.

But the man in question was keen to be served and i hate to disappoint - with the effect that i disappointed even more because shortly after arriving, the metamorphosis happened from friendly to role-playing verbally nasty and unconvinced service on my part. It was just not working, too much rough grabbing, awkward exchanges and unfelt kissing. I had to leave.

It's disappointing that i can't serve on cue, that i can't put my doubts and desires on hold to just please the man i'm with. It just felt too fake and he kept asking, who do you belong to? and i can't look someone in the eye and tell them something that's not true.

know what you want

They say you've got to know what you want. Masters say that all the time. Personally, I don't know what i want but i make up for that by having a fairly good idea of what i am. Knowing what you want is overrated. Doesn't that negate the essence of what it is to be a slave? People get annoyed about me not being sure of what i want. But isn't that what makes me what i am? I don't necessarily go after what i want. Not always. Sometimes the anxiety caused by going to see a master is such that i feel physically sick and i have to take drugs to return to a normal state. Not illegal drugs but chemical substances nonetheless. My body is stressed out at the idea of the performance and doesn't always react too well. Then why do you go through with that? Because when i put on the plates of a scale my anxiety and a master's satisfaction, there is no doubt in me which of the 2 forces i'll be happier giving in to.

open service

More attempts at renewed ownership keep failing miserably. I just can't feel the submissive urge. No, wait, i'll rephrase that. I just can't feel the slavish devotion. No one can make me say i want to be your slave and no one else's. i guess to do that, i have to fall victim to those feelings that are awash with love, infatuation, admiration. All those things i'm not getting.

i'm well aware of my subservient position in life and i'm happy to oblige to requests for service but other than feeling good for having satisfied a dominant man who required my services, i have no further desire to become owned. No one, these days, is inspiring those feelings of awe in me, no one i can comfortably look up to - and not because i'm feeling high up already but because i feel there's no one around.

an added boner

Today we replaced our old and dying vacuum cleaner with a brand spanking new one. As the most impatient member of the household by far, and a bit of a cleaning freak when in the mood, i jumped at the chance of cleaning those hard-to-get-to spots around the house. As my straight housemate walked past me on the stairs with a drink in his hand as i was down on all four happily intent at getting the dirt out of the carpet, it occurred to me that this was kind of like some parallel society where some members don't have to do any effort because all the work is carried out by one specific category of people. I kept doing my housework with a hardon in my pants, it was even better.

every little helps

Finally i went. he called me to him and i went. i grovelled, i kissed, i licked and did all that was expected of me. Does it make me feel any better? A little.

hello slave

Someone told me, hello slave.

People have such diverging ideas on what that means. You can be a sex slave, a house boy, a toilet slave, a dog, a pig, a pony... To tell someone hello slave, do you want to meet, is absurd. If i was a slave, i wouldn't have to be asked. i'm clearly not his slave, so why call me that. You can make me your slave, hunt me and make me submit. But i'm getting increasingly resistent to giving up that control of my own volition. And definitely not to just anyone who asks. So people will say: ha, you're not a real slave then if you want to chose. But i could tell them they're not real Masters if they can't get me to submit. But i don't go telling people whether they are, or not, real masters. That's hardly my role.

Other people want you to beg to be fucked or to suck them but, if they had a slave, if they actually owned one, if they'd bought and paid for it at some slave market, would the slave beg them? would they listen to a slave's prayers or would they just use it the way they feel and when they feel? If you own a pen, you don't want it to ask you to use it to write. It doesn't get you more in the mood to write if the pen asks you. You pick it up when you have something to write and when you're done you put it down. You don't pick it up again until you have to write something else. A pen, like a slave, is a tool. So why can't you use your slave the way you use anything else you own?

I think one of the reasons why one recent attempt at slavery failed is because the Master who was making use of me kept telling me that i'd have to deserve to make him cum. That did not compute for me. I didn't understand what i was supposed to do. Why couldn't he just fuck me when he was in the mood, cum if he wanted to cum, not cum if he didn't want to cum. Why do i have to deserve to make him cum? if i'm someone's slave, i don't have to "deserve" anything. Things are either given or not given to me. i have no control over it and i don't want any control over it. In the same way, when you want a slave to beg you to fuck him, is because you're still considering your slave as another person, with desires and wants, you're acting as if his desires mattered. He's doing it because you're telling him to do it. Why pretend that what he wants matters? And if what he wants does matter, why mock him and call him a slave?

Something that was always so fulfilling in my role as D's slave was that i felt i had really no control with him. Once, in a situation that i felt was hard for me, i broke down, couldn't take it anymore, i really wanted to leave and asked him to let me go home. I never had a safe word, and that meant i was powerless to resist him. I had to trust him, and i did. I could beg and he could give or deny. When i begged that night he eased things for me but ignored my request to let me go and i was so grateful to him for not letting me go. He kept me there and i slept next to my Master. But for the last time - after that he let me go for good.

So, someone told me hello slave and all this happened in my head.

diary of a depressed slave

Don't know why, i spend my whole week feeling stressed by work and looking forward to having some time for myself, then, come Friday evening, as i leave the office, i am overwhelmed by sadness and void. It leaves me powerless and unable to move or react. I just have to freeze and let it blow past me.

The therapy is continuing, in the last 5 minutes of the last session i gave in and accepted to go for a further 2 weeks. One week's now gone. I regretted it right after saying it but i kept to my word. I can easily be swayed, we've all realised that.

But 2 more weeks doesn't change anything, the therapy itself is such a long and slow process that it has itself started to make me feel imprisoned.

i got asked over by a master i have served a couple of times in the past but i'm turning down the invitation. i'm so messed up in the head. i came home needing to serve, to get out of myself, to just be used, to feel. Pain, humiliation, joy, whatever, anything but the void. But i can't find the strength to actually push out of it. When you're owned it's easier, you just have to do what you're told to do. When you're not owned, you're the one who has to find the strength to take your own decision and it's fucking exhausting.

But i can't let him own me. I don't feel it. Maybe it's because a long time ago, when i was owned by D, he tried to "poach" me and was disrespectful to him. I don't mean by the shear act of poaching but by what he said. I responded (disrespectfully), confronted him and ended up feeling annoyed. Maybe because of that i can't let myself feel for him what a slave feels for his Owner.

Yet, i still went to see him when i was released, i served him, i let him use me, hurt and abase me. But it's a story of continued resistance on my part: me resisting his attempted claims over me. And the fight makes serving him more satisfying because at the end he gets his way, he uses me and i go home with his fluids in my stomach and my face smelling of his pubes.

But he's not the Master at whose feet i can just curl up and feel protected. He's the man who abuses me, that i resist and lose to.

But he's not my Master.

grow up

i remember as a child feeling somewhat disturbed the first time i came across a porn magazine. A drawing of a woman pissing in a man's mouth, it was a comic book. Seemed quite an absurd idea. Surely he would die from poisoning. These days, material of the same quality appears on my screen, or at least in my head, with some regularity.

Growing up is a seedy business.

lessons

There are people, that by simply chatting to you, can really catch your attention. A is this. We've chatted a few times before but circumstances were never quite right. Last time I felt we had really hit it off, albeit only on an online level, but i really enjoyed talking to him and would have loved to meet him if i hadn't already agreed to wait for some guy who was moving to London and who later turned out to be a total waste of time [more].

Because of this he felt it would be better not to meet at all. And now, a year and a half later, we are going to meet up. i must say, i have suffered major disappointments assuming too much on the basis of an online conversation. Often it is simply a projection of my imagination. But, what can i say, lessons are clearly not so easily learnt.

the experience

Over the last few days i have been melancholically reminiscing about an experience that's been very meaningful to me: the first time i was fucked by my Master of about a year ago.

For quite some time i had seen him regularly and served him as best i could, but for the first couple of months he never chose to use my arse.

I was ok with it, getting fucked has never been something i particularly enjoy, but far from it being something i do lightly with just anyone, it's mostly an act that's deeply meaningful for me, that symbolises taking possession and that lastly creates a very intense connection.

I cannot express how strongly i wanted to please him. i wanted to be instrumental to his pleasure so much it almost hurt. When his cock was in front of me and i was given the opportunity to worship it, it felt like the most sacred of acts, the highest of privileges and i wanted to do anything to please that cock.

The day that he simply turned me over and, without a word, fucked me, was one of the most fulfilling moments ever for me. i doubt i ever properly managed to express this to him. On the day i idiotically kept thanking him. I've done this other times: i got fucked and i thanked who had fucked me for using me. It's just always seemed proper form to me but this time it was different and those thank-yous were so deeply felt.

It sounds so terribly cliché, he had "taken his pleasure from my body", nauseatingly overused. But to a slave, and that's what i felt i was to him at the time, it was everything.

renewing gunnar

I've never been much of a porn person, not because I'm such a good boy of course but more likely because I've never come across a variety of porn that would solidly rock my boat. All regular porn leaves me completely uninterested and even a vast number of, so to speak, kinky material leaves me feeling uninspired.


One website, though, that has not failed to catch my attention is punkboys.net. Over a year ago I came across this site and was so intrigued that for the first time i bought a membership to "see more". The videos are not as interesting as they appear when you see the pics but they're still ok to look at. For the majority it's straight guys taken from the streets of some Eastern European country and promised a couple of beers and a few bucks if they humiliate, piss and spit on some other guy. So a lot of the doms are quite good looking but really uninterested in any of the action, mostly looking in the distance at straight porn playing on some tv, in order to stay hard and give the sub something to work on. There is, however, one dom who's very interested in what's going on. His name is Gunnar, i think, and he's viciously mean. You can see he really enjoys humiliating and beating these guys about. His videos are by far the hottest on the site and some pics of him taken from this site are literally posted all over the internet. Ok, admittedly you have to look in the right places.

The membership to the site is one of those cunning auto-renewing things so if you don't want it anymore you have to actually take the time out to cancel it - and when it comes to someone like me who's remarkably bad at keeping track of these things, it so happens that i never actually got round to cancelling it. I'm not on it very often, so i don't think about it that much but every now and again i remember about it and think i should cancel it. Then i go on the site, i think that maybe i should watch some of the videos one more time and i eventually fail to cancel it because i kind of enjoy watching it and i think i'll cancel it another time.

Today is one of those days. I went on the site to find out what the procedure was to cancel. As i was once again starting to have doubts about cancelling on account of all those enticing images i was confronted with, i thought: what the heck, let's have another look at mean Gunnar but only to find out that my username and password weren't working. I thought the site might be down but i found a way to check my membership and discovered that it got cancelled months ago -- when my wallet was stolen and my credit cards cancelled.

I felt relieved that i didn't have to go through the decision of cancelling (decisions are very hard for me when i have to take them myself) but the relief vanished quite quickly and as my eyes caught a glimpse of all those images again i started wondering if i should renew my membership.

the last days of the therapy?

For the last couple of months I've been trying to quit my therapy.

I've been in therapy since September last year. After being depressed and a tad suicidal for a few months, my GP put me on antidepressants and I found myself a psychotherapist. Due to my and her schedules, the only time available to us was early in the morning, so for a year now I've been seeing her twice a week, at 7am.

I never understood whether she was quite right for me, if in therapy, like in love, it has to click, or if things were slow and monotonous as a result of my own slow and monotonous personality. Whatever the reason, i always felt that the therapy wasn't quite working. I started because my desire to be a slave had become somewhat overpowering, to the point that it was causing me to consider breaking up my relationship to simply live as a slave, i guess that, in my hazy depressed moods, the borders between fantasy and reality had started to look somewhat blurred.

Over time, however, the focus of the therapy has shifted to other issues but it's also become less interesting and challenging. It's all turned into little more than a habit: one I've decided to break out of. So for a couple of months now I've been trying to stop my therapy. I have mentioned that I want to stop seeing her and she has declared her opposition to this. She thinks this is possibly the worst possible time for me to stop the therapy, with my boyfriend having left and my depression just below the surface. It appears she seems to fear a major crisis if I stop.

Is she right or is she wrong? Does she see things I don't see or has she, as I've suspected for some time, not got me at all? Some people tell me she looking after her money. I don't think that's the case, she might even be right in saying that I need this therapy, I've just decided I don't want to do it anymore, I want to spend that money on things I enjoy doing rather than looking deeper into my darker areas.

I must sort of agree that my depression is not completely gone although I've sort of stopped thinking of it in terms of depression but more in terms of a depressive nature. I'm a melancholic type with longings, insecurities, desires i'm unsure how to respond to and generally in need of some leading figure in my life.

Does this mean I have to undergo a lifetime of psychotherapy? I've decided not and the end is approaching at the end of this week.

dr jekyll & mr kink

Sometimes people give me grief online about having a boyfriend.

My online profile doesn't mention i am in a relationship. (It does say i'm not available for 24/7 though). I have been back and forth about whether to incorporate this tidbit of information, and I've added and removed it several times. Now for quite some time this information has been noticeably missing from my profile. My situation in this respect has various aspects that make it a little complex to explain and the explanation, at times, includes details that are too personal to volunteer to just any casual browser.

Says the guy with the blog -- I know. On the blog i allow myself to be more open than on my profile, that's understandable, i think. The majority of people who check online profiles look at photos more than text, some will read the text too but won't move on to the blog. I think it's acceptable to share some information only with people who have made the transition from checking out pics on a profile to reading a blog. And it's not like this information is secret. I do tell people who approach me online, i'm just trying to selectively share information that involves my partner.

This post, though, is where i try to address the question: how can you be a slave if you have a boyfriend?

Some people find this a deal breaker, for others it's irrelevant. It comes natural to say that someone who wants a deep involvement will not be ok with me having a boyfriend. But is that always so? The involvement I seek is clearly stronger than having a one-off fuck and i've met a good deal of people who (said they) were looking for pretty much the same and did not have a problem with my being involved with someone.

The truth is this is within me. I have this desire to serve a man's needs. "Slave" is the word that best seems to describe the type of person that i am. But that word is but a vehicle to convey an idea. I guess i have considerable doubts that i could dedicate my life to being nothing but someone's slave. As exciting as the idea may sound, i have my doubts that it's a viable lifestyle for me in the longer run. I can't for instance see myself being an elderly man and still live as a slave. Perhaps i am biased and i shouldn't really be so dismissive of it, but i can't deny that at this time in my life that's how i feel about it. i would probably, was i not involved with someone, pursue this kind of lifestyle to a certain degree on the wave of this ideal fantasy of men being men and slaves being there as their property. But this fantasy diverts somewhat from the reality we live in where people rarely are 100% one thing or the other. And although my mind works a bit along those lines, my reality is that of there being a person that's very important to me, who doesn't at all fit in this fantasy and still is my life. The real one.

I do from time to time fantasise about a relationship with a man who's master and partner, who owns and loves me, who is everything for me, God-On-Earth, but i suspect that the day-to-day partner bites chunks out of the slave until there's little left of what there was in the beginning. The slave soul gets corroded and quality of service languishes. Instead i believe in trying to be the best slave i can when i'm in service. And also, I have stopped believing that you can find everything in one place and this is how these 2 aspects of my life have naturally come to be detached.

I do have a wonderful boyfriend but there is no trace of a master in him. He's tried to work this into our life but i don't understand how i could serve someone who's making an effort to please my desire to be a slave. That makes no sense. So that element has been entirely removed from our life which means that sex itself has been entirely removed from our common life because i just can't do "vanilla sex". There's no appeal in it for me. For me sex is about one person getting his way and another enduring what it takes in order for the first one to get his way. It's imprinted in me to the extent that i can't conceive of any different form of sex. None that i want to get involved in, in any case. i'm sorry that i can't be a more congenial bedtime partner for my boyfriend but he understands that this is me.

Why am i sharing this bit of information with you casual blog readers? i guess it's because I'm tired of people assuming off some online profile that they know me from adam, that they can tell me that i'm just someone whose slave side might mean nothing more than a bit of fun on the side when the boyfriend's away. The slave is well within me. He is just in love.

over him

A few days ago I met L for a drink. I felt fine this time. I have been feeling fine most times I've met him recently, but maybe with a slightly sad aftertaste. This time, though, there was none of that. i think i'm over him. We chatted casually and i felt fine all along, maybe because we never touched upon the unmentionable topics: slavery, ownership, etc. It's definitely best to leave things that way. I don't want to know that about him anymore.

When i look into his eyes, i am reminded of all the crap, the sadness, the feelings of inadequacy, the loss of self-esteem, but it's somehow distant. I poke at it hesitantly with my memory trying to see it again, like you do leaning out over the edge of a tall building: to feel the pull of the void below you, to know what it's like. I tease myself with it and i stare out into my own void. It's my own little freak show and i'm jealous and protective of it. But when i do that, i look into the eyes of a man i don't really understand, with desires i don't understand. Just like i don't understand my relationship with him. i can't grasp him, and when i think i can, i can't help but feel that maybe i imagined the person i was in love with. That's when i think that i'm over him.

When he left to go to the restroom his jacket was right in front of me. i looked at it, like this part of him that he had left behind for me. I stared intently into its collar and had the urge to bury my nose hard into it and inhale through its fabric like it was my last ever chance to breathe. It was an urge of possession, breathing him in, all in, like he could never escape that way. i would inhale and never stop inhaling, until all the tiny little particles of him that have escaped him through the pores of his skin would be thousands of miles trapped inside of me, buried in my lungs, and i could cherish and hold them for ever.

i'm over him. i'm totally over him.

grab-a-fetish

the perverse smile

i remember what it's like growing up with thoughts of slavery. I used to feel like i was the strangest, most perverse creature to walk the earth. Well, clearly i still feel kind of odd on that account but not as much. It's funny how these days i log onto one or another web "community" and i see some of my friends who are online, i have met a lot of them, i know what they are like, what they do for a living and i know that they want to own a slave or be one. The perverse wear human clothes and have human hearts and they don't look so perverse anymore. A guy messaged me tonight with such kind words about the blog. It's nice when that happens, when links are created and the perverse smile at and recognise each other.

familiar smell

My office is located not far from a very well stocked fetish store here in London. The other day i went out for some sort of business lunch with some people from work and in order to reach the restaurant we walked past it. I didn't think of it beforehand but as i was talking to my colleagues i was suddenly assaulted by the familiar, intoxicating smell of rubber. It all felt very odd, combining those people with that smell. None of them seemed to notice but I wondered if some of them recognised that smell too.

crossroads

Recently i've been spending time on iVisit. Too much time, in fact. My profile says i don't do cyber or camsex, and it's true, i'm really not interested in that but from time to time it occurs to me, out of boredom more than anything else, to set up the webcam and enter this video chat-room full of men mostly wanking with their cams pointed at their bits as they lazily stroke them looking at other men who've also pointed their cams at their bits as they lazily stroke them.

Some images may be vaguely intriguing -- often, for me, depending on whether the shot is taken from the bottom up or the top down, or how comfortably they seem to be sitting -- but for the most part (as someone who's not particularly into cock shots) they're just boring. I guess the whole atmosphere just calls on my exhibitionism, though. Some men will ask me to show them something, or do something, and although i don't start the whole cam adventure thinking of playing slave on cam, when i'm addressed directly by a man playing with his cock, and i'm asked to do something, i guess something takes over me and even if my plan was simply to go to bed unwound, i have to put that plan on hold and start doing what i'm told.

I guess the appeal is also not knowing who will be in the chat-room and sometimes it's the men i would be least likely to go for in real life that i like to accommodate the most.

In any case i generally get hooked on this for a few days at a time and then don't go back to it for many months. But there's also a very sociable aspect to all this: that you sometimes meet really nice people. It's the democracy of masturbation: we're all equals fallo-in-hand, so you can talk much more freely if you're that way inclined. One such person, JM, i felt very close to at times although i haven't talked to him in quite some time now.

You see, you can view it as a crossroads where many people come (quite literally in fact) like a big train station where we all cross each other, each with our separate destinations in mind, but for a few minutes or so we're all sharing the same space.

psycho

big brother

So, life's been going on. I've been making timid attempts at letting my slave self come out again but it just doesn't seem to happen. My current theory is that it's all down to chemistry.

A lot of people don't want to meet for a preliminary talk to find out about each other and see if we want to take things up a notch. They feel that if we meet in a social situation the mood will be spoilt, that we'll just be friends and it will be hard to move to a Master/slave dynamic.

I think these are the people that it won't work with anyway. I need to serve a Master who's confident, because I lack that confidence, a Master who can be in charge even if we're having a drink, who doesn't need me to be tied up to feel empowered, who can feel our different roles the way i can. If he's all shy when we meet for a drink, it's not going to work only because he acts dominant at his place.

I guess it's almost a romantic approach, i need to feel seduced by, interested in, excited about my Master. Not deliberately seduced and not sexually excited - although that's clearly going to happen too - but excited about who he is and how he makes me feel. I can't agree on the basis of a chat: yes i'll be your slave and you'll be my master. It's something that we need to find out in person.

These days i'm even fantasising about a very odd, hard to define relationship. Maybe it's what they call older/younger brother. Someone that i'm more friends with, where there's complicity and genuine interest in each other, but knowing, though, that i will take care of his sexual needs and that he's the one in charge. Without all the theatre.

I'm just feeling a little disappointed about how things tend to go in fetishland, it's all treated as though it were a separate reality that has to be kept distant from everything else whereas i need to try and integrate it into my everyday life.

the south coast

the south coast experience is drawing to a close. I feel bad being the one who breaks things up but when things are not working, they're just not working. You can try and find in yourself the desire to serve and to put yourself second to someone else but ultimately there's only so much you can fool yourself.

I also think i've sort of lost it a bit, the ability to be a good slave. I think i'm just not that dedicated anymore. Like i've written in a previous post, i'm waiting for someone who'll drag me right back into it but i don't feel willing to show too much initiative anyway. If i am to meet someone who's going to take control of me, he has to take this control, instead of relying on my desire to give it up.

I realise this is a whole big contradiction, it's a very delicate balance but the basis of any relationship is a delicate balance and a Master/slave relationship is no different. You can't make it work on paper. You can't overdefine what can or can't be done, what everyone is supposed to feel.

i don't know if i can still be a slave. there's only so many people you can feel loyal to. You can't feel loyal to one man, then another, then another... it's a very strong bond and it is cheapened by being redefined so frequently.

I think i've updated my profile too quickly to add my owner's profile as required by him. But the truth is, there's never been an owner who's taken the time to display his ownership of me on his profile and i felt touched by this gesture. Now i feel stupid to take it off a mere couple of weeks after it went up but i think it's necessary.

Some time ago, a man i was chatting to asked me: 'when did you first realise that you were a slave?'. Not 'when did you first become one' or 'when were you first enslaved'. This idea of it being something that is within me, rather than something that i choose evokes a deeply felt response in me. I don't know if it's there or not. I don't know if i'm a slave regardless of whether i'm owned by anybody. I suspect that if i were a proper slave i wouldn't be breaking things up with my current owner and i would just make it work from my point of view until he'd get tired of me. Saying that things aren't working so i'm stopping doesn't sound like slave talk to me. So i feel ashamed of it, but this kind of slavery involves an element of free will that contradicts it.

Devotion, though, is a big fucking thing and i don't think you can be devoted to slavery, you must be devoted to a master, your Master. These switches just dilute what is a very powerful and deeply felt bond and at the moment i feel so diluted i'm just dirty water.

exits

Some time ago, a master/friend told me of this experience he'd had. He had met a couple online who lived in a different town. They arranged a session in which he'd visit them, stay overnight at their place and have both of them serve him. The session came and went uneventfully well and left a lingering good feeling for my friend up until he spoke to one of the two guys in question and found out that the other one had since taken his life.

At the time he recounted this experience i was very affected by it, as i was myself planning my own exit. Well, planning is kind of a big word, somewhat misleading considering that the act of planning it was the only thing that seemed to positively affect the way i felt, perhaps because i felt i was doing something about it. In any case, it was a fairly bad time, as you might imagine, followed by antidepressants and therapy instead of a jump off some bridge. To this day i'm not sure all that really worked. It did for some time but it's hard to isolate what events have an effect on your life when there's so much going on.

Now i'm off the antidepressants and i'm considering spending my money on something other than psychotherapy. I guess i should learn to live happily with my melancholic, depressive self. I don't know if i ever really had depression, i don't understand depression. I was depressed, yes, but i think i had a reason to be and i do now, still. So do i learn to tackle my own ghosts or do i keep living convincing myself that i'm doing something about it? Or do i go check out that bridge? I think i'm way to passive in life to ever do something that clamorous and i'm not oblivious to the effects that a gesture of this nature can have on the people who are left behind - and by that i don't mean only people i might have had sessions with or their depressed friends.

So i stay away from that bridge, i'm unlikely to ever come close to crossing it. Instead i absorb these self-destructive desires the way you might do the blows of a paddle during a session: trying to simply accept them. Without rebellion.

the win

Over a weekend that has seen me being taken on by a new owner italy wins the world cup and these pictures wind up in mine and many other inboxes. Not very original, there's a vague dieux du stade theme going with perhaps even more of a gay undertone.

someone new

i have met someone new. well, we haven't met technically, i'm going to brighton to meet him this weekend. Talking to him i feel so close and so far from what i'm seeking. And so close and so far from understanding what it is this thing that i'm so desperately seeking. Belonging, safety, security. All this seems to be waiting for me at a man's feet, this magical place that just like the end of a rainbow always seems close by, and yet it is impossible to reach.

So i'll go to brighton, if he likes me i'll serve him and i'll come back. Maybe i'll feel satisfied coming back, or maybe i'll be wondering why i did it. i guess it will all depend on how i feel about him.

i do try to empty myself of personal feelings and learn to serve regardless of my personal preferences, and i do, sometimes, my actions take place inside, outside and next to me, i can let them happen without relating to them, carrying out a task without necessarily answering the question why i am doing it. But sooner or later the question catches up with me and expects an answer, and won't let go until it's got it out of me, or at least until i've given it proper attention.

i'm not the soulless slave that i try to be sometimes, the robotic automaton that carries out orders without question.

i so wish i was: capable of serving the young and the old, the good-looking and the ugly, aware of my role as a service provider. instead i have emotions that get in the way and come to haunt me.

Once D told me: i don't expect my slave to exhibit free will. He was angry with me for something i had done and when a Master has been angry with you, you can't forget it ever. He used to say that punishment cleanses the mistake, that it wipes the slate clean, but to me there was never any going back. The pain of having messed up always stays with you

Maybe being a slave should be all about relinquishing pain and emotions, abandoning my body for someone else to manage. Well, i'm not doing very well at it, i'm constantly stuck with this bundle of confused emotions where i can't tell one end from the other.

It's only monday and the end of the rainbow still looks pretty far.

you are what you eat

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still on the market

The other day i met someone new. We'd chatted a couple of times but not extensively and never got around to arranging anything.

The experience was quite intense and again led me to wonder what it is exactly that i'm looking for. I don't feel willing to become a slave again. Not now. I don't know why. I'm leaving it up to a potential owner to convince me that that is still what i want.

I think that ultimately for me to define an experience of this nature as positive i have to have the feeling that i've managed to please who was using me. And this time i didn't get that impression. I didn't think he was pleased or had particularly enjoyed himself which evokes only one response from me: the experience was negative, i must get out of here.

Yet it felt right to be naked and available, try and focus on someone else, try to serve and please him. I guess i have this overwhelming desire to make myself useful. It's a little pathetic really. It is really all about being in service to someone. I can't say for sure that i enjoy the abuse part of things. I take it because that's what's expected of me and I try not to complain about it.

A lot of people don't necessarily understand that i don't define all of this as "hot". i don't find it hot to be "used and abused", what i find hot is for a man to have that kind of power over somebody else. So the emphasis is not on me, and i don't want it to be. Masters who try to think about me having a good time by doing this or that, who want to know what i like, what i do, lose my attention quickly. Masters who try to educate me to learn what they like and give me the opportunity to give them exactly what they want retain my interest and loyalty for ever.

The reason that i call myself a slave is not that i want to be bound, gagged, fucked or beaten but that i want to be instrumental to someone else's pleasure.

the truth

Should you follow heart or reason? Go where your heart takes you, we've all heard that. i certainly don't do much of that. I go where my head takes me, i.e. all the wrong places. In the Big Chill, JG tells us that rationalisation is more important than sex: we can go for days without sex but not even a few hours without rationalising. But defending the concept that the truth is whatever you can argue more forcefully, a few centuries before mr BP gave us one of those little pearls of wisdom, a quote, a little cheesy by today's standards, but nevertheless something that from my teen-age years has sort of offered me an escape route, an alternative way and hinted to the existence of something that can't be fully grasped and rightfully so. Le cœur a des raisons que la raison ne connaît point - the heart has reasons that the reason doesn't know. Can that really be true?

all hail the skate

i'm developing a brand new fetisih. Inline skates. It could develop as a branch of sportskit fetishes.

Since allowing myself to seriously indulge my rollerblading interest, i have started to focus more and more on the skate itself. The rigid shell, the steel frame, the mechanical beauty, the smooth movement, the heat, the exhaustion, the hinting to a fusion of human and robotic into a cyborg-like being. It's all taking shape as a stronger and stronger focus of my attention.

I have even emailed gaydar's customer support asking them why they list sports such as skiing, skateboarding and ice skating but not inline skating. They keep ignoring me.

on belonging

i miss D, i've said that. Then guess what, L pops up, a few stupid words and i miss him too. Then C is online. We chat a little. And i miss his presence in my life and the security of those days. This is why i don't let myself trust my feelings and why i don't take decisions based on how i feel.

What should i make of that? Ok, i miss three people instead of one, i guess that's not so bad. it's a desire to have some reality out there, some reason to belong.

These days i'm following the world cup when i've never really cared at all about football. If you call my bluff i'll probably admit that i still don't and yet today i was actually wearing a blue t-shirt with the letters I-T-A-L-I-A on it and i went to watch the game with a few other fellow countrymen (and a czech chick). If you try and convince yourself long enough that you care, in the end you start to believe that you do and you suddenly have found something else going that you can call your own, that you can feel attached to.

I'm a bit tired of living in my stupid head i just want to do meaningless stuff because the fancy takes me even if that's just watching some sport event on a big screen with other people who also think they care so we can all feel happy and hug because our team has won.

sparklelust

i have met D on the street the other day. My ex-master, D. By chance, in the street. It was so nice to see him and at the same time so sad. i felt so strongly drawn to him, i was longing for some contact even something hardly noticeable, grazing against each other, some skin on skin, but it was all perfectly nice and perfectly appropriate. i miss him.

Looking for action now

i feel very removed from the business of online interaction. Reconworld. After discussing with a friend how he tends to get stood up a lot by people he has met online and how this doesn't seem to happen to me that much, we've realised that, well, i don't really meet a lot of people and when i do it's never as a spur-of-the-moment must-have-you-now one-off fuck. Am i less spontaneous than that? Probably. A lot less. It's one thing meeting somebody in a real life situation and going off to do whatever it is that people do when they fancy each other. Quite another sitting in front of a computer and agreeing with one another on the basis of an online pic that you are actually going to go outside to have sex with this person who maybe used to look like the 5 year old picture he's attached to his message.

I suppose I should like this: the meat market approach to sex, but i don't. I guess i can see the interest in being approached as some piece of meat but i can't do the same to a master, it's completely meaningless to me. Unsurprisingly, giving up your own pleasure to purely focus on someone else's tends to be more rewarding when that someone else is somebody that you... i don't want to say "care about", but at least have some kind of human contact with.

I don't know, perhaps I'm all wrong. I can already hear the comments coming about this saying: if you are a slave, why should it matter that this is rewarding to you? So I have to ask myself: should it? Maybe then i'm not really a slave. Ultimately I'm being asked to take a decision, so, up until the moment that decision is taken I must exert some degree of free will and this is what comes out of that.

Wanna fuck? No, thanks. Truth be told, if i get an urge for such meaningless release of fluids, i'd much rather have a wank and be done with it.