I had sex with K last Friday, even though I always enjoy his company, since I met Lorenzo my feelings have been different. Being involved in the BDSM world is something that I always longed for, it is the only way to a true deep meaning of an amazing connection with a Dom. No matter how short or long this relationship is or will be. I am dying to relinquish all the powers to my Signore. I have never been so impatient, anxious and exited to serve. I can feel it in my body when I hear his voice every day, when I think about him. I feel closer to him more than my last BF of 3 years. I cannot wait for him to explore and play with me not just my body, actually I am more into the mind connection, even if I can only have play over intercourse, I will choose play because it's much deeper and stays engraved in my brain like a small electric button that gets ignited at any thought of him or what and with whom he will order me to satisfy and my only goal will Always to obey, serve to the best of what I can be.
Intercourse could be the after care.
Sometimes I think that I am crazy to pursue this bdsm path because I have not found a decent Dom who is willing to take on a sub with all the responsibilities that entails.
How do I know that this is the one?
I don't but I will die trying at least one more time, flying to meet a stranger that I am getting to know a little.
We talked about breath play and I would love to be under his wings to learn more, I have this idea that it is like being super high on adrenaline and serotonin , and I feel like I would love this and be addicted to it.
This deep trust will come in time I think, but I want to experience sub-space.
And I want to go to a deepest level as far as pain.
Pain is the crucible that melts it all down and reforges me into something wonderful.
I want to be used and abused as a sex slave.
I want to be on my knees by his feet looking up with tears of intense emotions of joy and pain and know that this is the Dom that I am supposed to be with and acquiesce.
I finally arrived home.

The cell was dark and quiet, except for the constant water dripping from the corner and the distant unknown sounds from the hallway. Not even a barred window, but only a vent located in the upper side of the ceiling and allows very little external air to enter; this openness, however, is not enough to wipe out the strong and intense smell of urine, sweat, dirt, which now has become so habitual that not to notice anymore. The cell is small about three square meters, made of hard stone cover by tiles and closed by a thick wooden door, barred from the outside, at least so it seemed to me to understand.

I barely remember my name, I live in this cell from a time that seems endless, although my jailer told me it took just four months since I've been locked up here.

I live with a heavy collar that tightens my neck, from which branches off two heavy short chains about one meter, which ends in two big ring fixed in the northwest of the cell wall, at a height of about a meter.

I feel, throughout the day, the weight of the collar and chains, they throw me to the ground; when I try to get up, to walk a bit 'or to make my needs in the small wc, theirs weight overwhelms me.

But the chains that keeps me tied to the wall are just one of the restrictions that applied to me, at my feet two metal rings were fixed, one around each ankle; my jailer used a hammer and now these anklets cannot be removed, they become part of me; between the rings, thick and heavy, it is fixed a fifty centimeters chain, which prevents me from running away. All these irons are always emitting a sad and metallic clink at my every move; I feel this weight on my feet at every step, and in my lonely wait, I find myself staring at my feet, naked and dirty, and this chains that unites them, to my miserable fate: I am a slave, a prisoner in chains forced to live in a damp, dark cell for the rest of my days, forgotten by everyone and perennially oppressed by the weight of the chains.

Few time the boredom and the suffering are interrupted and it comes when my Owner took me to the house after washing my body up, to serve him always in chain or once a day with my food; my Jailer opened the heavy wooden door and leaves me a bowl of watery soup and stale bread: this is my whole meal. Finished eating, I return to lie down on the hard stone, watching my cell, always the same, immutable, fixed; I go back and listen to the sound of my chains, and to think about my life.

Oh, when I had a life! Now I spend my time waiting to be used, to see the door open, to receive some food, more my Owner is happy more, maybe, He will be allowing me out often.

No one knows where I am, I become a prisoner, a slave.