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.

late

Same old road but a different time of the day and a very different time of the year. i'm used to walking this bit of road at 6 in the morning, crossing under the railway station towards the underground to get my train home. This time it's equally dark but late in the evening; a lot more people around me, but a much greater feeling of loneliness. Everything you can get used to, i remind myself. But there's so much to get used to that at times it feels like it's too much. I mechanically place one foot in front of the other and then again, and i wonder about the way that things take shape around me like it had nothing to do with me. My reflection glides from one window to the next on the buildings next to me and there is nothing i can do to change the direction of my steps. Someone i care for has left.

unlearning the ropes

In december last year, my then master spent the night at my place a couple of times and, on those occasions, made use of a length of rope i had here in my room. When he left i tidied up the rope and hung it in a corner so that it would be ready the next time he'd come around. Well, he never did come around again. The times we met after that were at his place until he recently let me go but all this time the rope has been hanging in the exact same spot. I've sort of got used to it being there so i don't really notice it anymore but every now and then i see it's there, i consider storing it away but then i feel sad about doing it so i leave it where it is. Like some respirator you can't bring yourself to switch off, I look at it and i wonder what i should do. The rope stays there. We look at each other, we reminisce, we wonder what to do. The future is uncertain for us but we're learning to share this bedroom and this uncertainty.