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I guess all bloggers have to ask themselves – and each other – what’s the point of blogging? In my case what’s the point of blogging about me & BDSM? In one sense this is a risky thing to do. I’m not of the generation that slaps all the details of their private life on Facebook, or tweets about whatever passes through their head. For me the BDSM thing is something intensely personal and private. Although I’ve been out as a gay man for years, I’m very much not out as a BDSM-er. But going public in a kind of anonymous way like this is one way to make this real, to be virtually visible.

It’s possible that one day the virtual me here and the me in the real world will get linked. I hope that if that happens people will won’t be judgemental. One reason I want to write this blog is because it’s now obvious to me (and many others – including researchers) that the BDSM drive isn’t a perversion, or the result of a dysfunctional childhood. Like gayness itself, it’s just the way you’re born; or at least it’s a propensity you’re born with. So as I reflect on this side of me in these posts, and describe some intimate and personal things about myself, I guess one motivation is to acknowledge and make audible something that – like so much else in sexuality – is intensely and complicatedly human. And if that supports other BDSM-ers in their journey, as well as spreading a little understanding among non-BDSM-ers, then it’s been worth it.

This morning I found myself fully re-inhabiting my slave avatar, Sub-O – or was it him who suddenly resurfaced in me? I was naked and about to step into the shower, and felt, as I often do, the desire to sex myself up. What a shame, I thought, that I no longer have a master to do this for, a master who wants his slave to be in a permanent state of arousal.

And then, I heard my slave voice, loud and clear: “So I don’t have a master at the moment. It doesn’t matter. I am my own master. I don’t need a pretext to keep myself aroused. Cum denied and horny: that’s the state a slave should be in – always. That’s what gives a slave his identity and his power. I claim my right to be be a slave!”

There was something in the tone of his voice. In a post from long ago I imagined myself dialoguing with Sub-O, and he was like a younger adolescent brother, having fun, finally finding his feet as an emerging slave boy. But now his voice was older, more experienced, more mature. This was the voice of a slave who knows what he’s about, who understands more deeply the dynamics of submission and domination. A slave who won’t be judged by vanilla standards. A slave who won’t be silenced. And a slave who sounded just a bit angry at me for trying to keep him tamed these last few months.

I hinted at the end of my last post that this slave-self felt like he was trying to re-emerge. Well here he was, no longer content to be subdued by a weekly orgasm: “Yes. Enough of casual cumming. Time to return to some serious training. We’ve got out of practice. Look at the last time when you were meant to be edging and lost control. We need to keep this body fit, and do some regular slave training. Ass training. Gag-reflex training. TT training. And all done on our knees, cock locked to avoid the temptation to cum. Remember how we did it for Master CML: naked, kneeling, collared, caged, clamped and plugged. That’s when you know you’re a slave.”

Ultimately a slave’s goal is to gift all this to his Master – in an act of surrender and submission. But it is his to claim, his to inhabit, and his to give – his power. So this is Sub-O’s challenge: step into your slave power; for this too is life.

The Covid-19 Lockdown’s been an odd time – everyone knows that. From a sex point of view it’s had its obvious challenges, and while kink perhaps offers a few more possibilities than vanilla sex for finding creative solutions for social distancing (gas-masked flogging, anyone?), for me it’s basically made in-person encounters outside my core domestic relationship a clear no-no.

But then, as my most recent (actually not that recent) posts suggest, things were already getting pretty damped down on the BDSM front anyway. And what the lockdown seems to have done is move me further into a quieter space with my partner. In fact, it’s been quite a good lockdown, where we’ve both worked mostly from home, gone for daily walks together, spent one cosy evening after another together, and generally lived together pretty amicably, while all the while fulminating at our own government and other right-wing populist governments around the world!

Curiously, while other guys I’ve chatted to online have been climbing the walls with horniness, I seem to have found a kind of equilibrium. As my (vanilla) boyf. and I have moved into a post-sexual stage of our relationship, this has meant that in effect I’ve settled into a kind of equanimity around celibacy – no, not chastity, celibacy! This hasn’t meant I’ve stopped feeling sexual, or kinky as fuck, though. In moments when I’ve been alone at home I’ve enjoyed some fun auto-erotic times, including some (even though I say it myself) quite imaginative auto-predicament-bondage rig ups (if you ask me, I might tell you).

All of this is consistent with observations I’ve made in the past: that when I’m around my bf a lot, my kinklinations often tend to recede into the background; and that with reasonably regular, and creative, masturbation I seem to stay out of slave space in actual practice. I mean, it’s not that I don’t think about slavery (a lot); but rather it doesn’t have such a hold on me.

If I go more than a week without orgasm, though, I can feel myself starting to metamorphose into my slave self, and if were to go for a longer period of denial, then I’m definitely susceptible to temptation! Now that the lockdown’s started to lift, I’ve realised I’m going through just this kind of re-emergence into feeling sexual and subby. We’ve just come back from a short holiday, my boyf and I, and I have to admit to spending quite a bit of time trawling through Recon while we were away, and even Googling my former Master’s handle to see whether I might catch a glimpse of him online. No chance there, though. It seems the last time he put in an appearance on Chaturbate was a year ago.

In some ways I’m glad to be re-connecting with my kink self. At the same time, it makes me anxious. I’d sort of begun to reconcile myself to a different, celibate situation; which may seem odd, but it did bring me a stronger sense of feeling settled. Getting horny again has been correspondingly unsettling. But it would be stupid to pretend it’s not happening – fantasies of being locked and dominated, of being slowly and repeatedly brought to the edge of orgasm while being sexually tormented, of being repeatedly denied. Mmmph.

While Covid prevails, these will have to remain fantasies. What will happen when it becomes safer to go on meets again, I’m not sure.

It’s been a couple of months since I last posted, so here’s a quick update on my sub life.

One significant thing is that not too long after my last post, about Omar, I did let him go. Although I’d been texting him with view to serving him, he just got too impatient and abusive, too volatile, and in the end I blocked him. Even thinking about him as I write this gets me aroused, but I’ve had no real regrets about cutting the ties. I don’t seem to be pining for him.

I also – more gently – cut the ties with Master TJ, with whom I’d had quite a fun cyber relationship for a few weeks. Because he didn’t want to cam, and wasn’t hugely proactive, the thing had basically quietened down. I did clock up quite a decent period in chastity under his ownership, though – some eight weeks. But in the end I did the decent thing and messaged him suggesting we call it a day, which he graciously agreed to.

And for a while that’s been it. Just back to a quieter, more floaty time, with some nice self-pleasuring sessions now that my cock’s been returned to me. Being unowned has seemed right, and has been better for my relationship with my partner. Though we’re still post-sexual, we seem to have gotten closer lately. I suppose I’ve begun to accept that things might be OK with just the two of us – that that might be enough; no need for behind the scenes kink-ery.

But of course, I’m a slave to my core. This much I know. And rather than suppress my kinkster self, I know I have to acknowledge he’s there and let him play from time to time. If that tide is starting to rise again, it was perhaps occasioned when the thought of my former master, Master CML, came into my head while on a long car journey last weekend. True to form, just thinking of him started to produce movement in my pants! My slave self would love it if he got back in touch again and said he wanted to own his doggy once more.

But I think this is unlikely. Despite myself, I did send him a message a couple of days ago, saying I hoped he’s not affected by the current Coronavirus pandemic. But since his strapline on his Skype ID says he’s left the platform forever (though without actually deleting his account), I doubt I’ll get a reply.

It’s funny, though. As soon as you start putting horny energy into the world, the world seems to respond. In the last few days, I had a message from a guy – I’ll call him Master J8 – who used to dom me sometimes in my Cam4 days and periodically texts me on Skype. We did have a cam session a few weeks ago, which was hot, and also included sight of his erect, shall we say larger-than-average member. I also sometimes send him horny sound files of me pleasuring myself, which he seems to enjoy! Anyway, his partner’s away this week, so we might be on for some cam fun. It’s just a question of whether I’m going to be able to be home alone at the right time and for long enough. I hope so. He’s promised to “use me hard”!

Of all the Doms I’ve ever encountered none has been more perplexing than Omar (not his real name of course). The testosterone fuelled origin of my story with him goes back nearly two years, to my (so far) one and only in-the-flesh (but what flesh!) encounter with him in a sauna. A post from June 2018 recounts the tale of lust and anxiety he managed to breed in me. Judging by the lack of any re-match to date you’d have thought that that would have been the end of it.

But no. Despite our complete failure to arrange another hook up (we live in different parts of the country), and despite some real communication difficulties (among other things his written English is terrible, devoid of punctuation, full of obscenities), every couple of weeks I get an SMS or WhatsApp message from him saying things like “where my dogslave when my bitch coming to visit” – you get the gist. No doubt most of these are sent out to the many guys who’ve bottomed for him. But when I’ve engaged with him back, he’s anything but dismissive. His tone is often aggressive, showing a complete failure to separate out verbal abuse during play from communication the rest of the time. But occasionally he sends me sort of nice messages, or samples of beautiful Islamic incantation, saying how much this helps him calm down. So just when I think I’ve had enough of him, I relent.

Why can’t I let him go? Why doesn’t he let me go? Clearly he has issues with anger, and any sensible person by now would have deleted his number from their phone, or just blocked him. Perhaps his volatility is part of his allure. He feral; horny and hard; the kind of Master that gets my juices going (despite – or maybe because of – the fact that in my muggle life I’m such a nice, respectable boy). I suspect that this side of him is partly a performance and partly the result of a damaging past. I recall from the time I met him that he’s actually quite a nice guy despite his aggressive streak.

I sometimes wonder whether the universe might be using Omar as some kind of sounding board for me to hear the depths of my own desire – and that it won’t release me from the hold he has over me until I’ve worked through it – whatever “it” is.

Looking back over this blog, I realise that I came fairly quickly to evolving into the BDSM-er I now am: predominantly a sub – well, no, slave, whose slave-i-ness is inseparably linked to cum denial and chastity. Once I’ve gone for more than a few days without orgasm, Sub-O, my inner sub-boi, wants to come out to play! And in fact during the ‘floaty’ period I’ve been having these last few months (see last post), my slave alter ego has been getting increasingly impatient with me – so much so that a couple of weeks ago I started hunting for a master again, online or in person – whatever was possible. My inner slave would out!

What goes around comes around. To cut a long story short, Sub-O is now trying out with another master online, this one based in Toronto (so once again there’s a time zone issue). He’s older, in his 50s, and has something of that mellowness that people get as life knocks some of the corners off you. So far we’ve communicated entirely through online messaging and photos, which I send him daily. Oh, and I’ve also sent him some sound files of me candidly telling him how horny being his slave makes me, and letting him hear me moan as I pleasure myself for his pleasure – “I want my slave in a state of constant heat”, he wrote to me yesterday, ” and I want his cock trying to constantly get hard inside his cage”. He found the right slave!

Although it’s early days, I feel myself lucky to have already made a strong and horny connection with such a master. Cyber slavery might not be quite as hot as serving a physically present master, but this guy (I’ll call him Master TJ) is good with words. And he brings it out in me too. I’ve sometimes been so thrilled and horned up in conversation with him, that I’ve written things – and said things in my recorded messages to him – that have come straight from the heart, and seem to have drawn something from him in return:

Master: ” I so love seeing you naked, boy.”

Me: “I want to be utterly naked in front of you, Master. Not only literally – tho’ that’s horny enough – but also to expose my slave self to you. It matters that someone who gets it sees this part of me.”

Master: “Naked, bare, exposed and looking up at your owner knowing he controls you and owns your body.”

Me: “Thank you for enslaving me Master – I’m so grateful.”

That kind of thing!

As I said, what goes around comes around: this is, more or less, the third time I’ve served an online master. When I started out this time, it was with mixed feelings, including, I have to admit, a kind of weariness that I can’t seem to escape the cycle of my own karma. But each time it’s a bit different, and maybe this time it goes deeper – like I’m tapping even more strongly into my slave self and am beginning to understand it more. What a strongly text-based relationship like this reveals to me is that my master’s voice – what he writes to me – is also a voice in my own head. He speaks maybe for some archetypal master, and while he’s also still an individual human being in his own right (and needs to be respected as such), perhaps my recognising in some more deeply felt way that he’s also voicing something beyond either of us (just as I may be doing for him) is instructive.

Lingering behind that thought is perhaps some hope that I may yet be released from the demands of my inner slave. This doesn’t mean denying him: he’s essential to who I am, and I think a permanent companion. But it might mean being less enslaved by one’s slave. The way forward is either in that direction or in throwing in everything and living the life fully and openly as that slave. But that would mean ending my relationship with my domestic partner and dismantling much of my current life – something unbearable to contemplate. And in this dilemma lies this particular sub boy’s pain.

For the last month or so, I’ve felt myself to be just floating sexually. This emphatically isn’t because I’m not horny. I’m thinking about sex all the time — as I write this I can feel a damp patch in my pants! What’s changed is that the usual avenues of sexual connection have been kind of closed off — or at least I’m not pushing myself to go down them. Here’s the list of what’s not happening:

  • I have no master, online or otherwise. Today I was thinking how much I still miss my former online master, Master CML. Maybe I haven’t acknowledged losing him enough. When the whole relationship’s an online one it can almost feel like a fiction: I never actually got to touch my Master; never physically worshiped his feet; never felt his hand on the nape of my neck; never felt his foot pushing into my crotch, his cock flooding my mouth. And yet this relationship was in some way real, and it filled the hole that every slave feels in his slave-being. I miss you, my Master, and in some way I loved you. There, I said it — the beginning of the end of my denial.
  • I’ve not been on any trips away recently, so no visits to saunas or raunchy backstreet or underground bars.
  • Since noticing a malicious looking email in my spam folder I’ve embargoed myself from making appearances on cam-wank sites. No doubt this abstinence will just be temporary, but it’s an opportunity to re-find auto-erotic pleasure without them.
  • Even though I periodically upload Grindr onto my phone and have a couple of times started to fix meets with guys, these haven’t come off. And increasingly I feel not so keen on doing the anonymous hook-up thing anyway. Meanwhile, there’s been barely a flicker of activity on Recon — not least because I’ve not been bothered to chase anyone myself.

Behind all this hesitancy is the fact that I’ve been in a better space than I’ve been for a long while with my domestic partner. Even though we officially have an open relationship, and even though he’s kind of OK with me pursuing my BDSM interests (too lame a word!), there’s always been some unease about this — on my own part too. Although it’s clear from the many posts on this blog that Sub-O is a bit of a slut (another understatement!), there’s also part of me that appreciates what’s important about monogamy. I don’t know whether my bf and I will ever truly find our way back to the fully sexual relationship we used to have (more than 10 years ago now). But I love him, and at the moment am trying not to compromise the emotionally warmer place we’ve returned to. That place forms the heart space we need to keep growing our relationship, be it sexual or otherwise. When I’m on the hunt for other guys and other experiences, something of my own presence in our togetherness gets lost. In large part that’s why I’m hanging fire on outside encounters.

So once again I find myself ‘between the tides of two lives‘. Indeed it’s six years since I wrote that post. Which tells me that this has been part of the enduring dynamic of my erotic and domestic life. It’s not perfect, and I clearly can’t fully have it both ways. But the alternative? Sometimes there may be no clean or tidy resolutions.

Comments on my last post remind me that I still haven’t told the latest episode of the story of Sub-O and Master CML. Here goes, then. About a couple of weeks after I became his slave again, my online Master messaged me to say that he didn’t think he was gonna have time to keep going with it. Things had just got too busy. Essentially this was a re-run of what had happened about six months before – though that time I had been owned by him for about half a year.

And just like last time, my feelings were mixed. On the one hand, I was sad to lose my Master. As my last post reveals, my feelings for him were quite strong. It wasn’t that I was in love with him, but he had in some way captured my heart in his power. On the other hand, it was a bit of a relief – a slave boi can only go for so long without feeling his Master’s attention.

So what now, O? Actually, it’s quite nice to be free. Unsurprisingly, I’ve gone back to being a cam slut, putting in an appearance every couple of days or so on sites like Cam4. And whereas under my Master’s ownership these sessions never ended in orgasm, now they climax in a climax just about every time. Sometimes I end these sessions feeling a bit grubby, wishing I hadn’t wasted my time. But other times, like yesterday, they’re a lot of fun. This is usually when there’s a decent number of folks in the chatroom, and the guys are appreciative and chatty. It’s all probalby Narcissism really – but it beats the shit out of jerking off on your own!

I can’t stop thinking about my Master.

I want – need – to write here about my Master’s power over me: about how he has tapped onto something deep inside me. Yesterday I had a session on cam with him – the first time since he re-enslaved me. I’m not gonna go too much into the details, but several memories have been imprinted into my brain and body as a result.

The first is just the sheer intensity of the sensations of an S & M session. My master’s way of announcing that he wanted to dom me on cam was to message me with “a lot of pain is coming – I just logged into my laptop”.

“When is it coming?”

“Now. You can call me now my doggy”.

And so we cammed. For the next hour I endured (and of course enjoyed) what my master most likes to do me: have me naked on my knees, collared, plugged, and undergoing intense pain on my nips, cock and balls. No orgasm at the end of course, just the instruction to lock my cock back up and get dressed.

Mentally, I’m still in that space of physical submission to him. But there’s something else. What I can’t get out of my head is the memory of his body, of him lying near-naked on his bed (in just a sexy white vest), relaxing and masturbating while he played with his slave. Some of the doms I’ve served in the past have been older guys: horny, powerful, considerate, but – let’s say – not usually at their peak of physical attractiveness. But my Master is young, smooth skinned and lithe. I relish his ownership of me not just because of his domination but also because he’s attractive. At the end of our cam session, I pleaded with him to let me see his face again. And for a short while I was able to look at him entire, sitting in his vest on the floor, me at the other end of the line, kneeling. Those moments are as powerful as anything.

Chatting before before our session, I reminded my Master of how my cock always starts to harden when talks to me. “Well, that can’t change”, he wrote. “Even when I didn’t own you” (I had a six month period of being free) “you still got hard when you talked to me. It’s like you’re already marked by me”.

“Yeah, inside”.

“Deep in your soul. Lol”

“I thought about outside too. Maybe making a mark on my body, in a secret place”

We toyed with this idea, and then moved on. But I fantasise about doing it even so – about making a hidden external sign of his ownership on my body, to reflect how he’s captured my inner self. Maybe a discreet little cut that would involve a little pain, a little shedding of blood.

But my Master’s saner than his horned-up slave. He didn’t run with the idea – just as he’s sensibly cautious about some of the other more extreme things I could so easily slide into. We briefly played with breath control in our session, but again moved on. Maybe that’s for the best; it’s reassuring that my Master stays level headed when I, in whatever space I’m in when I’m with him, might completely let go control.

In the background to all this is my relationship with my domestic partner – mostly comfortable, but these days non-sexual. It’s probably just as well that my Master is on the other side of the world, and in any case would be unlikely to want to get seriously erotically involved with someone over twice his age. I on the other hand sometimes feel like an adolescent boy when I’m with him. I think he relishes that aspect of his power over me, but at the same time is careful to keep a little distance – to stay focused on domming me and hurting me. But that distancing is just another way I feel him asserting his power.

I’m captured. Enslaved. All I can do is acknowledge these feelings, and note the other kind of pain my Master causes me (and another aspect of his power over me): the pain of separation when I’m not in his presence.

Can chastity change you? Thumper made this typically astute obversation in his recent post, https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/59602/posts/2320756754:

“My thinking is chastity and denial tend to lower the water level of one’s sexuality exposing topography that’s usually hidden in the depths. And orgasmic satisfaction raises that water back up, turning the topography back into islands or submerging it altogether”

To which I would say, Yes, definitely! This last sixth months or so, since being released from online slavery by Master CML, I’ve been cumming pretty regularly, having reverted to free submissive mode, and whoring around a lot on webcam sites like Chaturbate. The water got raised back up, and this has been a way for me to manage my kinkiness, not get so obsessed wtih being a slave, and accommdate more to everyday life and my vanilla, post-sexual domestic relationship.

And then, the other day, after somehow carelessly going for two weeks without an orgasm I found myself raging with horniness, and absolutely desirous of being enslaved, of wanting to put the cock cage back on and being owned again.

The universe has a funny way of working: as it happened, just a day later, and unprompted, I found a text on Skype from my former online Master with a picture of his dick. “Remember this?”, he asked?

We chatted on and off during the day, but soon enough it was clear he’d rumbled me:

“You want back in don’t you? You know you can just say it: Say, ‘Master I want to be your slave again.'”

Perhaps it was pride, but I didn’t say Yes straight away – even though my cock was already hardening. But before too many more exchanges, we were talking about a period of fixed-term ownershipfor the month of July – and then “wbo knows what will happen?” “And this time”, my Master wrote, “let’s focus on the pain”.

My reply:

“So I will say it like you told me to: Master, make me your slave again.”

And that was it. I’m owned again online. As Thumper puts it, the water level has dropped down, so that I can see my full submissive, masochistic sexuality in all its pervy glory once more! And I feel alive.

Just back from a weekend in London. Inevitably I spent a few hours looking for some horny action — first in a sauna and then in the small hours in the Backstreet club in the East End. It was all a bit so-so — no major stories to tell, but not totally uneventful.  My response to this seems to be double-edged. On the one hand, I kind of think I’m getting too old (or just don’t have enough erotic capital) for this kind of thing. On the other hand, I have as strong a sense as ever that I just love sex, and don’t seem to be able to live without it. The main affirmative thing I took from last night was that it still feels good to be out there living the life of a sub. The sexual instinct remains as kinked as ever (or as it’s become these last few years).

russian-gas-mask-black-1-800x1067As material evidence for this, I’m now the owner of a Russian gas mask complete with breather tube. I’ve experienced these in a few BDSM scenes, and always found wearing them as hot as fuck. I love the potential for breath play and even a bit of popper play. It feels definitely down the sleazier and darker end of the spectrum, but I have to acknowledge it’s there. How long can this go on?!