sub-burbs

I originally created this topic to explore different facets of my sexuality.  To kick things off, I thought I’d start with one fantasy that goes back as far as I can remember having sexual thoughts – The Sex Machine.

My very first exposure to sex was the discovery of a huge stash of Playboy magazines in my grandfather’s basement when I was around 8 or 9.  While the ingrained images of those lovely ladies fueled plenty of normal sex fantasies, my mind theater also went someplace a little odd.

I used to imagine some sort of machine with myself and one of my Playmates both strapped into it which would force us into sexual situations and positions.  To this day, I can’t imagine where this idea came from, but it’s always been one that turned me on.  A good portion of what I enjoy about Power Exchange is built on that foundation as well – the feeling of being completely out of control of a situation and at the mercy of someone (or something) else.  Having a machine instead of person in charge is even more exciting because you can’t plead or bargain with a machine and it never grows weary.  You are at its mercy until it stops.

As I got older, the fantasy stated to mutate slightly.  I soon started to imagine only myself in the machine, it attacking me with an array of vacuum tubes and probes in every orifice.  This might have been partially fueled by my timidness about sex, the machine absorbing any guilt as I wasn’t masturbating but being forced to do these things.

This fantasy has remained a mainstay of kinks that I enjoy and time has brought some interesting additions to this genre.  Awhile back, I stumbled across a story called Judy’s Jewels, the story of a farm girl who lures her cousin into bondage and a turn on their milking machine.  That fueled a whole new facet of this kink which led me to purchase my own single-cow milking machine on eBay and work to adapt it to fulfill this fantasy in real life.  (I can’t claim full credit for this – I discovered a sadly now-defunct MSN group called "Milking Men By Machines" full of people who shared the same fantasy.)

I’ve also been sketching out plans for my very own sex machine, a computer controlled gadget with time-lock restraints, a milking mechanism, and maybe even a fucking piston so that it would use me in every way with me completely helpless.  Self-bondage is scary and I haven’t been able to make the machine foolproof enough on paper to even begin to construct it.  Of course, no amount of engineering can fix having your wife come home early strapped into such a contraption.

Still, I hope someday I can at least in some small way experience this thing that has been brewing in my mind for almost 30 years now.

This kink has branched out into other kinks of mine, most notably my forced orgasm fantasy which has been channeled into my new-found tease and denial fetish courtesy of Mistress Trecia.

Some stories that tap into this kink:

• Judy’s Jewels – Farmgirl gives cousin more than he bargained for
• Getting the Chair – Housesitting for a crazy inventor can get interesting
• Eleven Days – A women housesitting gets a bit too curious about the strange "exercise" equipment
• Milking Man – A Domme fulfills her fantasy of building a milking machine
• The New Slave (Chapter 30) – Dommes ready the slave for his time on the milking machine

Mistress Trecia surprised me with another session last night.  She IMed me that I was to tie up my cock and balls with the plastic cord she included in my goody bag, get an ice cube, and then call her on her cell phone.  I could already tell I was in trouble.

As soon as we were on the phone, Mistress told me to take the ice and place it just under the head of my cock where I was to let it melt to get the head nice and wet.  Then, Mistress instructed me to take the 9-volt battery out of the bag and place it on the wet spot.

I’ve tinkered with electrical play before and have a nice PES Electro box of my own.  I’ve also managed to zap myself pretty good as I was learning the ins and outs of that particular kink.  None of that prepared me for the sting of that little 9-volt battery.  It took all my will power to keep it there in place, the sharp buzzing of current burning my cock head and causing my body to twitch with discomfort.

Once she tired of that, Mistress then told me to take out the Devil’s Spit – a small jar of an Icy Hot/lotion concoction she had specially made for me.  She said I was to take some lotion and mix it 50/50 with what she had given me.  I wasn’t really thinking and grabbed my bottle of lube instead of actual lotion.  While lotion would have combined with the Devil’s Spit and diluted it (making the coming torture a little less painful) the lube instead seemed to amplify the effect.

Once I had the mixture in my hand, Mistress told me to beg to use it, to plead with her to allow myself to inflict torture on myself.  Being the pain slut that I am, I did as I was told and begged  to use the Spit on myself.  Permission was granted, my hand started rubbing the substance into my cock, and I actually thought "Huh – this isn’t so bad".

Then it kicked in.  Damn…

I have never felt anything as excruciatingly painful as the fire that engulfed my cock at that moment.  Through the haze of pain, I could hear Mistress taunting me to stroke it, something that added to the pain as it rubbed more of the Spit into my skin but also aroused me because of my horny state from the previous few days and the fact that my cock was finally getting the stroking it wanted to badly, even if it was being burned alive in the process.

Mistress made me stroke myself to the edge in this manner, every few strokes seemingly more painful than the last.  Then, she added the kicker.  Mistress told me I could cum, but only if I could somehow find the pleasure within the pain.  Horny and desperate as I was, I increased my strokes, running for the release I needed.  Just a few moments later, I was begging for release and Mistress demanded that I cum.  It was an easy command to obey as I had a spectacular orgasm shooting spurt after spurt of my cum onto the floor.

Of course, after I was allowed to stop stroking, my cock was still on fire, the Devil’s Spit feeling like it was eating through my skin.  Mistress allowed me to untie my cock and then wash off her evil potion.  As a capper, she made me take the Sharpie she had included in the kit and write "MWK" on my cock, something I was ordered to re-apply once I had taken a shower the next morning.

Talking about the session afterwards, Mistress Trecia said she could tell I was right there with her when she told me to find the pleasure in the pain.  I know deep down that the orgasm was as fantastic as it was because of the pain, my machocistic bent once again showing its true colors.

Mistress told me to go to bed and get some sleep, but left me with the final thought of it being her hand providing my torment.  The end of March can not come soon enough as I, too, long to serve Mistress in person and subject myself to all of her sadistic desires. 

I can’t fight it – it is my sincere pleasure to ache for her.

Yesterday, I got snowed in at home and didn’t try to make the trek downtown for work.  Chilling out working in my PJs is a great feeling, but I started to get really horny.  Now, in the past, I’d normally really enjoy this.  I’d head over to PureTNA and grab a few BBW torrents and then have a nice, relaxing jerkoff session or two with my newfound smut.

Just out of pure instinct, I started out the same way yesterday.  I pulled down a bunch of porn and started to browse it, making myself even more aroused.  But, of course, all I managed to do was create a trap for myself that just created a perpetual cycle of getting aroused and having to shut the excitement down for fear of it going too far, then having it all start up again.

In fact, I actually started stroking at a few different points during the day and had to stop myself.  I was fighting my own body, my mind and heart knowing that my cock (and any release granted to it) were the sole property of Mistress Trecia and nothing would go anywhere any time soon.  My body, on the other hand, just needed to be touched, to have me stroke my cock, to revel in the sexual energy that masturbation can bring.

I spent all day flipping back and forth between those feelings, my cock getting harder and demanding even more attention each time the cycle started anew.  The logical side of my brain was screaming "Are you an idiot?  Don’t stroke your cock – you’re just making it worse! " but I couldn’t help it.

Eventually, my devotion to Mistress won out and I managed to back down from the edge and restrain my overwhelming desire for release.  Of course, I know how this is going to play out – I’m going to be on my knees, naked in front of my cam begging Mistress for permission to release.  My playful begging will quickly turn to pleas and then sobs as my entire body cries out for that elusive orgasm and I once again demonstrate to myself that my sexuality is owned, fully and completely, by Mistress Trecia.

On a side note, Mistress just told me that I’m to call her cell for special instructions before I go to bed tonight.  I’m extremely nervous and incredibly excited by the prospects of her cryptic message.  What is devious act is Mistress cooking up for me this time?

My Internet was out due to the freak snowstorm here in central Illinois, so I broke my perfect posting streak.  Sigh.

After Mistress Natalie pushed me aside and my only sources of income dried up, the ugly situation that was my life turned downright nasty.

Since I "needed" crystal meth and had only a small amount of money, I started forgoing utilities and rent.  It wasn’t long before I got my eviction notice.  I thought it wasn’t that bad and that I could live in my truck while I figured things out.  What little sense I had left kicked in and I realized I needed a plan.

Then, something weird happened.  I can’t even begin to explain why the following events happened.  For a short time, I thought it was nothing less than divine intervention.

The day after my "let’s try homelessness" thought process, I got a call from my wife.  I hadn’t talked to her in almost two years at that point and still don’t know how she got my number.  (It was even more fortuitous because the phone was due to be turned off a couple of days later.)  We talked for about 4 hours about our relationship and where everything went wrong.  The day after that, my mother called and offered to pay for me to move back to Chicago.  (She and my wife swear to this day that they had no contact during that time.  It was just fate giving me a free pass back to the straight and narrow.)

I called my wife and asked if she would consider starting to work things out between us if I moved back to Chicago as a show of faith that I was serious.  She said that she wouldn’t promise anything, but that if I was there she would be willing to at least talk about it.  I called my mother back and said that I would be willing to move, but that I was doing so for my wife’s sake alone.  She agreed and said she just wanted to have me home.

Somewhere deep down inside, I knew that crystal was killing me.  I was 6′1" at the time but weighed about 140 pounds, my hair was falling out from malnutrition, and I was making unbelievably bad decisions about my life.  I knew that I needed to quit and figured that a drastic life change might help.

I rented a big moving truck, filled it with my stuff, and hitched my pickup to the back.  I then went to say goodbye to the one friend I had left – my drug dealer.  As we were discussing my move, it dawned on him that I was quitting crystal.  He threw a little extra into my baggie for me (a huge  gesture in drug dealer terms) and then said he really would like it if we stayed in touch.  I looked him dead in the eye and said that it was something that I would really like as well.  We both knew at that moment it was the last time we would ever see each other.

I then started the long drive from San Diego to Chicago.  That’s when fate stepped in yet again to help me change my ways.

On a stretch of desert highway in the dead of night near the border of Arizona and New Mexico, my next life changing event would play out.  I had been driving all day and well into the night.  My crystal high was wearing off, so I was getting a little shaky behind the wheel.  Then, out of nowhere, I saw something run in front of my truck and swerved hard to avoid it.  To this day I don’t know if it was real or a hallucination.  The swerve was hard enough that I started to lose control of the truck.

After a few attempts to get back on the road, I felt the truck start to tip and it crashed down onto the driver’s side, sliding for almost 40 – 50 feet across the desert highway.  I remember distinctly being drivers-side-down with my computer and all the stuff from the cab on top of me wondering how I was going to get out when the world started spinning.  When it was done spinning, I shut off the engine, opened the driver’s door, and staggered out onto the highway.

I didn’t realize it at first, but a semi that was right behind me was blinded by the cloud of dust that my skid caused and didn’t notice my truck in the middle of the road.  It slammed into the bottom of my truck with so much force that it sent my 15′ rental truck airborne, high enough that it righted itself in the air and landed back on its wheels.

Yeah – holy fucking shit was my thought, too.

While most of my stuff was damaged by tipping the truck over, getting hit by 30-tons of speeding semi pretty much vaporized everything I owned.  In some crazy-assed miracle, I managed to survive with a sprained ankle.  (I noticed later that the nails that held the heel onto my right boot were bent and fractured from the force of the impact.  My foot must have been against the floorboard when I was hit.)

I was in serious shock and another trucker came up, found a blanket and forced me to lie down in the road.  Somehow, I had enough presence of mind to refuse to be taken to the hospital by ambulance.  (I figured they would do a drug screening first thing and realize I was high as a kite.)  I caught a ride to a hotel from the tow truck driver.

The next morning, I could barely move and couldn’t walk at all so I called the paramedics and they took me in for x-rays only to find out that I was the luckiest bastard in Arizona that day.  At the tow yard, I picked through the pile of splinters that used to be my stuff and managed to salvage a suitcase full of clothes and a few other mementos.  My dad then wired me money for a plane ticket and I flew home.

Everyone in my family was shocked to discover how horrible I looked.  After some greetings, I went to my new temporary home in my mom’s basement, crawled into bed, and slept for almost three days.

Almost as if a switch had flipped, my life started turning around.  My ankled healed until I only needed a cane to walk (something I was able to wean off of over a few months).  The website I had finished just before leaving San Diego got bought out by the Tribune Corporation and they offered me $20,000 to help them transition the code.  Once I was better, I started looking for jobs and almost immediately found a very lucrative position with a huge global law firm (where I work to this day).  With my newfound financial stability, I was able to get a nice apartment and start to reconcile with my wife.

I made one final bad decision at that point, one that I wouldn’t fully understand until these last few weeks 9 years later.  I decided that I needed to mold myself to the ideals set down by my wife.  I was completely broken and needed to be rebuilt, so why not tailor myself and my personality to everything my wife wanted?  I could be her idea man!

Well, that was really dumb because over the years, I’ve lost track of who I am and what makes me tick sexually.  I’d become incredibly unhappy to the point where I started taking antidepressants just to stop considering stepping in front of every bus that crossed my path as I walked through the city.

My quest to repair myself is still ongoing, but I finally understand my big mistake.  My wife has even acknowledged that she hates  that I’m trying to always cater to her whims.  She wants me to be my own person, but after almost a decade of trying to be something I’m not, I need to find myself again.  Mistress Trecia has been the first person to start to see the real me emerge after all this time and I’m blessed for her help and honored by her commitment to helping me fulfill and protect my inner-most desires.

I hope that with her excellent mentoring and guidance as well as the confidence I’ve managed to find as I grow more comfortable in my own skin, my quest to find the real me will be interesting and enjoyable.  After the ride I’ve been on thus far, the rest of the journey just has  to be downhill.

So, my adventure began with Mistress Natalie.  As we continued our relationship, I started to learn more about her as a person.  She was a stay-at-home mom and her Domme gig was just for fun but one that she took very seriously.  (Nearly every piece of furniture in her house looked normal during the day but had a hidden BDSM component to it like the sofa with hidden tiedown points or the giant cage that held a ficus and stuffed parrot when it wasn’t holding a human pet.)

I was one of two boys that she had in her service.  Her and her husband did some of the parties I had previously attended in addition to being part of the more exclusive swinger set in San Diego including being frequent guests at "Hillside", a mansion in the hills that was the true upper crust of the scene.

In addition to some mindblowing scenes, Mistress Natalie also spent time talking with me about what it means to be a submissive.  We discussed my trips into "subspace" and for the first time I started feeling like maybe I wasn’t a complete freak.  She was very well read on the topic as she, like myself, had quested to understand the D/s dynamic and what made her wired like she was. 

Meanwhile, in real life, the start-up I was working for was quickly failing and we started losing staff since paychecks were few and far between.  Before too long, I was the last programmer there and needed to single handedly develop code for all of our clients.  A coworker and former roommate of mine asked if I’d ever tried crystal meth and said that might help me become more productive.  I agreed and he hooked me up with his dealer which gave me a nearly limitless supply of crystal (for a price, of course).  I was able to work longer and harder, sometimes sitting in front of the computer and writing code for 70 or 80 hours straight without sleeping.  Before long, my appetite for crystal was costing me all of what little money I had meaning I started eating less and less to make it affordable.  (During the really dark times toward the end, I would pick up a .99 Whopper once every 2 – 3 days.)

Because of this, my only connection to things outside the office was Mistress Natalie.  With her getting in my head and under my skin and me putting my heart and soul into my service to her, I started to fall in love with her.  She had no idea what was going on when we weren’t together, so she had no reason to doubt my feelings or motives.  (In all fairness to myself, my feelings of love were very real.  In talks with Mistress Trecia, we discussed how a sub is supposed  to give their heart to their Domme but it’s up to the Domme to handle it correctly.)

Despite the fact that she was married, we started actually "dating".  We’d meet in hotels for some passionate love making sessions and do other things to take our relationship outside of the D/s boundaries.  Mistress Natalie’s husband began to suspect what was going on and confronted me a few times, at one point asking me to walk away.  As I was pretty focused and had fallen hard for Mistress, I told him I wasn’t going anywhere.

A couple of weeks later, Mistress came to see me at work and asked if we could go somewhere private.  It seems her husband confronted her as well and gave her an ultimatum – him or me.  Since I wasn’t the father of her child, she chose him and basically said "It’s been grand, but get lost."  (In all fairness to her, I was quickly beginning to lose my mind and was obviously wasting way as I started losing weight at an alarming rate.  I was hardly a catch to leave a husband over…)

I was devastated and driven immediately into a really dark place.  As crazy as it sounds, Mistress Natalie was the only thing keeping me grounded, so her pushing me away just accelerated my downward spiral.

Despite all of my hard work, the owners of the start-up I was working for finally pissed me off enough to the point where I quit.  (They took a piece of technology I created to analyze search engines and started using it in a very unethical and slightly illegal manner to cheat the indexing spiders, something I wouldn’t stand for.)  One of our current clients immediately came to see me with an offer to work for them exclusively as they had just landed some venture capital cash that was contingent on me getting their site up and running.  I was partially solvent again and was able to get an apartment and also further feed my deepening addiction to crystal meth.

I mourned my parting from Mistress Natalie every day.  I know now the extreme intensity of the emotions I was suffering through was the result of crystal magnifying everything, but then it was as if someone had ripped out what little soul I had left.  With nothing to really live for any longer, I completely fell into the abyss, consuming all the crystal I could get my hands on, barely eating, and at one point just completely stopped showering.

Eventually, my new web work gig was done and the money started to dry up.  My new habits needed a solid influx of cash, but I was in no condition to go out job hunting.  I keep getting my unemployment checks from the start up (since they weren’t paying me, the employment board considered that as being laid off), but my 12 months of those were just about up as well.  My life was about to bottom out in every way imaginable, but I’ll pick that story up later.

What really hurt most about my relationship with Mistress Natalie ending is that I felt I was really on the verge of discovering what D/s and subspace were all about.  During our sessions, I was able to find that blissful place and Mistress and I would have incredibly in-depth discussions about what it was like and what it meant.  Our relationship imploded before we really nailed down any solid answers.

It’s been 10 years since Mistress Natalie and I parted ways and until meeting Mistress Trecia a month ago, I had managed to completely bury all of my D/s tendencies and desires.  Of course, my sex life was horrible, I felt unhappy and unfulfilled, and saw a couple of ineffectual shrinks to try and discover the one thing that I should have known all along.  I am a sub.  Serving a Domme is part of who I am and the core of my sexuality.

I fully admit that this new knowledge scares the hell out of me because I don’t yet know how to incorporate it into my current life or my troubled marriage.  All I do know is that opening the door again and letting myself revel in this role that I cherish so much has brought me more joy in the last month and has reinvigorated my sex drive and overall outlook on life.

Up next – hitting bottom…

I’ve been putting this off for fear of not being able to do the tale of Mistress Natalie justice, but also because this part of my history is embedded in some pretty deep wounds that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to opening again.  I’ve also discovered that I had a lot to say about Mistress Natalie, so this is going to be the first of a few posts.  I’m going to post them over the next two or three days so I can finally and completely tell this important part of my past.

Because of the amount of work I was pouring into the small company I was working for, I gave up all relationships (including hanging out on the BBSes and at the parties) and just focused on work.  After a couple of months, a friend of mine mentioned that he knew a friend-of-a-friend who would be perfect for me and help me fulfill my unquenched need for servitude.  A meeting was arranged through his friend at a local sandwich shop.

When I arrived at our meeting, I got my first glimpse of Mistress Natalie.  She was sitting at a table with a girl of about 5 or 6 who I assumed (correctly, as it turned out) to be her daughter.  I came up and before I could introduce myself, she locked eyes with me said sternly "NO  titles" then looked at her daughter and back at me.  I acknowledged that I understood what she meant and we began to talk.

With her daughter there, it was mostly small talk.  What kind of books did I like?  Had I seen any good movies?  How did I know Dave (the friend of a friend)?  She revealed that she was married, but that her husband didn’t really participate in her "hobby".  We talked and shared our meal for almost an hour.  She then started the process of cleaning up and getting her daughter ready to go, but paused for a moment to hand me a card.  One side had an address written on it and she locked eyes with me again and said "This is my address.  If you’re interested in taking the next step, be there at 9 p.m. sharp on Friday."

I was a little worried about meeting Mistress Natalie as I knew nothing about her style as a Domme.  I did have a good vibe about her, but as my life choices were becoming more and more suspect, I didn’t even fully trust myself.  After some serious meditating on the issue, I decided to go and see what would happen.

Our first meeting started out badly as Mistress Natalie lived in a part of northern San Diego that I was completely unfamiliar with.  I ended up getting lost and showed up almost 15 minutes late.  There was a note on the door that said "Come in, lock the door behind you, and wait", so  I did as I was told.  The house was dark and lit only by candles and after a few minutes waiting by the door, I heard Mistress Natalie’s voice from around the corner say "Turn around, put your hands on the door, and close your eyes."

The combination of being in a strange place in a strange situation as well as knowing I was going to catch hell for being late made me start to tremble as I "assumed the position".  As soon as I was in place, I heard someone move around behind me and a moment later felt a blindfold being slipped into place over my eyes.

"Turn around."  Completely blind, I turned around and could sense that Mistress Natalie was just a few feet in front of me.   She then added, very matter of factly, "Strip."

I quickly removed my clothes and the feeling of being blind and completely exposed was pretty overwhelming.  A few minutes passed and I suddenly felt a hand grab and firmly hold my cock making me almost jump out of my skin.  "You’re late."  I started to stammer an apology, but Mistress Natalie cut me off saying calmly "Shut up.  Follow me."  Using my cock as a leash, Mistress led me into another room.

We stopped and Mistress told me that there was a bar at waist height just ahead of me and to bend over it.  The "bar" was a padded sawhorse and before I knew it my hands and feet were secured to the ends of the horse as I balanced there with my ass in the air.  She then said "If things start to get too intense, say ‘yellow light’.  If you want to stop, say ‘red light’."

For what seemed like forever, Mistress Natalie just walked around me, her heels clicking on the floor, and shaking what sounded like a flogger.  Without warning, I heard the flogger whistle through the air as pain seared across my back and ass.  Just a few strokes later, however, I found my bliss.  Between my apprehension at the situation itself, my feeling exposed, the knowledge that I had angered Mistress Natalie, and the onslaught of pain, I slipped full-on into what I now know as subspace.

My mild experience with Mistress Debbie didn’t prepare me at all for the full force of subspace.  The pain I was feeling drifted away and I was filled with pure ecstasy.  Each blow from the lash just fed the fire (okay – how did I not realize I was a pain slut? ) and I was lost in the center of my little ball of joy.  That singular mindset came back as well, the pain still hanging at the fringes of my buzz but me now able to feel everything  from the individual fibers of the ropes hold me down to Mistress’s scent, a mixture of leather and Obsession perfume.  Mistress Trecia, for the first time, has given me words to put to this – I felt fully and completely at home.

After the lashing was over, Mistress Natalie untied me and led me across the room.  She lifted my blindfold and I saw that was standing in a candle-lit room face to face with a 7-foot tall birdcage.  Mistress told me to hop in and I did, having to sit with my knees pulled up to fit as the floor of the cage was several feet off the floor.  As I turned to lift myself into the cage, I got my first view of Mistress Natalie in all her Domme glory.  She had her long black hair woven into a bun on the back of her head, her full-figured frame was form-fitted with a thigh-length leather dress, and she had on a pair of high-heeled boots.

I paused for a second to take her in but she shooed me into the cage and, once I was seated inside (a position made even more uncomfortable by burning backside).  She latched the door and snapped a padlock on it, checking it to make sure it was secure.  She then reached into the cage and pulled the blindfold back down over my eyes.

After letting me absorb the fact that I was locked in a cage for a few minutes, Mistress Natalie spoke.  "You were late, so you only get to listen this time."  I then heard a zipper and realized she was taking off her clothes.  A moment later, she said "Hi, honey" and I heard someone kiss her.  She proceeded to have loud, passionate sex with her husband right in front of my cage and all I could do is ache and soak in the erotic sounds.

A short while after they were done, Mistress Natalie let me out of the cage, removed my blindfold and handed me my clothes.  (She watched me with an amused smirk with her arms crossed over her stain robe.)  Once I was dressed, she walked me to the door and then handed me a piece of paper.

"There are two phone numbers here.  The top number is my home phone.  I would like to talk to you tomorrow evening about tonight and to discuss what we both hope to get out of this.  The other number is my pager.  You must page me at 9 p.m. sharp every evening to show your devotion.  Do you understand?"  I said that I did and she bid me good night.

I sat in my car for about half an hour before I was able to drive, the feelings that I experienced whirling around in my head.  The next night’s call with Mistress Natalie was spent discussing subspace (she specifically asked me to describe where I went during the session) and going through a sub "application" interview that covered things I liked and what I would like to get our of the sessions in addition to covering what she expected of me.  She said that she enjoyed our time together and was looking forward to exploring with me, but that I could walk away at this point with no hard feelings.  She reminded me of her pager devotion and said that if she didn’t get one later that night, she would know that I wasn’t interested.

At 9 p.m. on the dot, I paged her with the special code she assigned me, sealing my fate and forging a relationship that would finally make me understand what is means to be a submissive.

To be continued…

The complete tale of Mistress Natalie along with the start of my trip toward hitting bottom will be posted tomorrow.  (This is the most important chapter of my story thus far and I want to make sure I get it right.)

For the past few days, I’ve been doing some really fun shopping.  I’m going to get the chance to meet Mistress Trecia in person at the end of March and wanted to do something really special, both to thank her for her hospitality and having me travel up to meet her but also to pay tribute to how much she’s done for me in such a short amount of time.  (Specifically, she’s opened up pieces of my sexuality that I gave up on a long time ago and is also helping put some of my childhood abuse demons to rest, so much so that I was able to stop taking antidepressants.)

Ever since I was able to move my D/s bent from fantasy into real-world relationships, I’ve always loved serving Dommes I was seeing at the time.  This varied from the mundane (cleaning house, doing computer work, and so on) to the extreme (like serving as a personal "pet" during a public outing).  Regardless of the task, I got such a buzz at serving each Mistress, making them happy in some little way and reinforcing my servitude. 

In a way, it’s kind of like being the teacher’s pet.  You bring a polished apple, you clean the erasers, and do other things just to get a smile out of this woman in authority that you’re completely crushing on. 

For Mistress Trecia, I’ve been doing a flurry of web work and some other tasks, in some cases doing building, workworking, and other construction to help her realize her goal of of building her own working dungeon studio space.

This week, however, I’ve started acquiring the gifts I’ve selected as Mistress’s tribute.  When I was first invited up to meet Mistress, I immediately started crunching numbers and trying to figure out things like transportation and hotel, but also trying to figure out how to spoil Mistress.  I’ve put together a pretty good list, things that fit Mistress Trecia’s tastes and things I know she’s been looking for.

I’m going to stop talking about this for now because Mistress Trecia has already accused me of being a tease by not giving any clues to what I’ve gotten her and because there are still 7 weeks until we meet.

Of course, I am giddy and ready to pop and start spilling the secret because I’m so excited at the idea of being able to spoil Mistress and to do my "teacher’s pet" duty.

My original post about Mistress Natalie is still waiting in the wings, but today I had a dose of real life that kinda kicked me in the teeth.  I had a huge  fight with my wife, one of many we’ve had this week that have been escalating.  I was actually ready to start packing my stuff into my truck and looking for a divorce lawyer when we both finally cooled down and had a good discussion.

My wife and I have been on the outs for some time now.  I’m starting to realize (with the help of Mistress Trecia) that I’ve spent the time since my wife and I got back together trying to change myself to match her every whim.  I’ve stopped becoming who I am and instead have turned myself into a half-baked amalgamation of my wife’s neuroses which isn’t healthy for either of us.

My sexuality (of which D/s is a huge part) also fell victim to this.  Since a D/s relationship was partially to blame for our original separation, my wife shunned all things BDSM and I did the same to make her happy.  In the process, I completely denied myself the very core of my sexuality.

The real challenge I’m going to face in the very near future is two-fold.  First, I have to convince my wife that erotic servitude is a gigantic part of my sexuality and is something she is going to have to deal with.  (In the past, I’m assuming she wrote it off as a crazy kink that was just an inconsequential "thing" like finding Japanese women attractive.)  Then, I have to tell her about Mistress Trecia and see if she would be willing to work with Mistress to jointly fill my need to serve.

Part of me thinks it is a real pipe dream and that I should never tell her, keeping my secret passion for Mistress hidden away safe and sound.  If I expose it to the light, I may be forced to choose between these two important women in my life.  However, I need to learn to trust her and believe in my heart that she will understand and, knowing and loving me, will see how important it is and work with me to fulfill this part of me.

Trying to incorporate my "real life" with my time with Mistress Trecia is completely freaking me out, but I have to be true to myself.  This is part of who and what I am.  I know now that I can’t escape it and need to respect this part of me.  Hopefully, my wife will join me on this part of my life’s journey.