End of day 4.

Today has been different, more pervasive in my vanilla life as I found myself quick to frustration with displays of stupidity and irritating conversation, having to bite my tongue on a number of occasions.

As for the deep and yearning pangs which strike with regularity, well they are instantly intense and often painfully so from the off.  There is now a definite sting to proceedings.

As I ride out the straining ache which I have made a gift, I cling to her gift to me, my key into bondage.

Day three is already more challenging and it's only just begun.

Last nights epic yearn as I was exposed to the wondrous possibilities of pain, suffering, subjugation and gratification, brought me to the brink of madness as I writhed in the waves of frustrated agony and I learned that there were whole new ways to ache at the very core of me.

Getting to sleep was easier than I thought it would be but mostly due to how much I'd exhausted myself with 3 hours of being perpetually hard and bucking about the place in maddening desire.

I woke this morning and without provocation or stimulus felt very close to being right back there, in the heat of my desires, the waves still crashing about me and the ache still pulsing to its sickening beat of soul crushing frustration.

But it's odd, even when the waves subside and I'm left in the relative peace of feeling momentarily sexless, I find myself missing the intensity of it; that certain feeling of suffering with purpose; that sense of being connected to someone through my denial; that my gift of frustration is only made real by the visceral agony of its enactment.  I feel as if I shouldn't be sparing myself a jot of it in serenity and instead should be on constant tenterhooks in the service of love.

As I'm embarking on my first adult foray into the realm of chastity and self denial I thought this would be as apt a place as any to share my thoughts.

At two solid days without release behind me, following an extended period of rather excesive sexual stimulation and activity, I'm still at the stage of finding the sensations of frustration quite enjoyable.  The quickness to extremes of desire, the instant spark to twitching excitement and the perpetual ache at my core reminding me of the love which inspires my endeavour.

Concentration is a problem as I find I am more open than ever to losing myself in a haze of indulgent thoughts which bring me straight back to the realities of my frustration; the fact of its existence, embellishing its own effect so to speak.  Another problem, and this is one I've never heard tale of (although I'm not terribly well accquaited with accounts from a male perspective on the matter), is the matter of bodily function.  Maybe it's just me but I find that in the aftermath of unrequited sexual excitement (Basically all the time) that any attempts to urinate creates some bizarre, inexplicable, internal conflict between processes which, although not painful in any way, makes the experience feel somewhat soul destroying and deeply unsatisfying. 

Still, I would suffer so much more for the thought of providing comfort for my most Loved Lady so I am in no way complaining.  I'm waiting to see if sleep will become an issue as my body is somewhat primed for attention at that point, but I suppose I'll either learn or suffer.

Something of a side issue, but why is it so in vogue to have chastity devices as standard?  Excuse me if I'm wrong but I thought part of the appeal of the practice was the element of trust on both sides.  I suppose this is part of the general attitude of presuming, claiming and requiring weakness on the part of the submissive which is pervasive on both sides of the divide; something which I will never fully understand the appeal of, or at least not in the ratios of preference on display on the internet. 

I am in love and have no need of physical enforcement to ensure my gift of frustration.

I intend to suffer well, to take all I can before breaking and take the rest regardless.  I don't want a choice in when the pain ends; my choice was to be yours.

Note to self:  Your grammar is poor at five in the morning.

Where's the love...

Maybe I'm not cut out for this, but when a woman from another country initiates contact and demands instant and total servitude before a civil word has been exchanged I just can not take it seriously.

I try to keep up the sub side of things "Yes, Mistress" "No, Mistress" "Three bags full Mistress" but all the while my brain is saying how can you submit to what you don't know.  Eventually when I told her that I wasn't prepared to remove myself from any websites at her request and wasn't willing to devote myself completely to her without a conversation first she got offended and left the chat.

Being dominant is not the be all and end all of the universe and it is not the only quality that matters in this lifestyle.  Yes I like a woman to be dominant but you submit to a person and not a label.

Sigh, in other news I've had some great conversations with some great people and it's been genuinely pleasant to have contacts with whom I can be honest and open.  I hope I have brought at least equal joy to them.  Now if one could only conquer the practicalities of insurmountable distances all would be well in the world.

Hindsight.

Anyone else getting spammed by American submissive females supposedly viewing your profile?  I wouldn't mind if their profiles weren't either empty or vaccuous or obviously fake.  It's getting to the point where it's actually irritating seeing pictures of beautiful women in compromising positions pop up on my screen.

Wow this is getting irritaiting.

Total tally of women (supposed) who have tried to lure me into paying for pointless premium memberships at websites which serve no purpose whatsoever this month...

Five.

You can tell pretty much straight off the bat, the pictures are a bit generic and no matter how hard you try to talk to them like they're a human being they just skip straight to offering you complete and total slavery; but first you have to join this website and follow their training programme for a few weeks before the real time starts.

But it's such a painful process of getting to the point where you can safely kill the convo because you dare not get it wrong and accuse a real person of this grim fakery, I'd turn in my submissive grave.

So I humor them and play along until you can be certain, but it's really starting to wear me out.  I approach every woman with the same attitude, seeking friendship and offering to serve their indulgences should they ever ask, and being devilishly polite and respectful about the whole thing.

I'm begining to see why so many of the men on here have turned into creeps in one way or another, becuase they've spent too long jumping through imaginary hoops for fictional characters at great emotional cost.

It’s all about control

Maybe a trite statement in the circumstances, but for me, the longer I go without the taste of domination, the more clear it becomes to me that it is control which drives the masochist in me.  Due to certain mental proclivities I have always felt the need to be in control of my situation, never allowing myself to lose my grip on the important and pressing issues at hand.  Even in the daze of alcohol and the rapture of narcotics I have always managed to maintain my safety protocols, never letting down my guard.

So for me, the thought of sacrificing my control, willingly handing it over to a dominant creature and trusting in her, is hugely significant.  More and more I feel I need it, to spend some time in someone’s thrall and embrace the consequence of pain, suffering and humiliation which I could not have endured in under my own guidance.

A Gentleman and a Pervert... Forever and ever, Amen.

So... Collar me... What a weird and wonderful place.  Two weeks ago I was a closet submissive in over a decade deep and seemingly no outlet for all of the dark desires I held.   Now I'm going crazy, spending hours a day on here, checking the new members, seeing who's been recently online, hanging out in the video chat room trying to work out the insane dynamic between subs, switches, doms, dommes, phoneys, fakes, perverts and psychopaths.  Right now my nipples are on fire from an online session with a mistress I've never seen and a few days earlier I was nursing my balls after having been instructed to violetly whip them with the buckle end of my belt;  I've put myself into crazy positions whilst maintaining an erection in order to take amusing nude photos for alluring, attractive and honest young women and bought tighter breifs and alligator clips at the behest of others; I've set my hair on fire, poured hot wax on my cock and held an open flame centimeters from it's throbbing head... and I've done all of that with people just rooms away from me...

I must be going absolutely insane.  What if I'd been caught?  What if someone had walked in whislt I was tying the rope wound round my balls to the clamps on my nipples?  What the fuck would I have said?  But the craziest thing is that I haven't breathed a word about any of it to a single person I know in the real world.

Even though this is some of down right most exciting, dangerous and interesting things I've ever done, as far as any one I know is concerned I'm the same safe reliable me whose been spending alot of time doing uni work for that degree he hates.

How could I say anything to anyone? "Yeah sorry I was late coming down tonight but I had to spank myself on camera  because the last ridiculous thing I did in front of someone I've never met was naughty"

That just doesn't fit in nicely in the sytax of my conversations.

The only way I could think about broaching this with even the closest of my friends would be to lie to them about smaller and less drastic incidents that have occurred and that "I'm not sure what it's all about".  But I do know what it's all about.  I've known since I was a child.  Since I rewound everyfilm where a woman hurt a man, since I read every book I could find on the topic, since I searched the internet everyday for years finding stories and developing and obsession with a new fetish every month.

For the record (as if anyone would possibly read this far down), when I started all of this my intentions were to sit back and look for a soul mate.  For a woman who I want to worship on a personal level.  In my vanilla life I have an exceptional track record in regards to not taking easy sex in favour of looking for a genuine emotional attachment and here in my first forrays into the BDSM community I find myself acting like a complete slut.  I want a real person to love, to worship, to serve and I want that person to love my submission, to revel in my pain and delight in my service. 

That's the dream.  All I've been doing is indulging in fantasy and ignoring reality.

But this place blurrs the lines between all those things, every woman could be the dream, every interaction could lead to fantasy and ever second you devote her it becomes your reality.

I have said all of this here partially because I don't think anyone will ever read it and partly because I can say it nowhere else.  I don't know which part of that is more pathetic.

That's all for now, my fictional crowd.