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| **Please note: I do have a long-term slave as part of my household. She is very attractive, late 30s, very bi, and very interested in me adding someone to our household. We live a LOW DRAMA, serene lifestyle, homestead/country living (gardens/animals), off-grid fully sustainable pursuits (solar, rainwater collection, etc.)
I gaze into the mirror and take a long non-flinching look at the reflection that does not embellish nor diminish.We are both very successful in our careers and financially stable. I'm definitely on the hunt for an additional slave, but like hunters of generations ago, I suspect it will be a long arduous pursuit and I am prepared for that. Oh, I have hair (salt/pepper), not shaved bald anymore. Need to put an updated pic up.
Who am I?
An intensely passionate and insightful man to be sure.
I call myself a Master, not a Dom.
Also, a man with moments of weakness, of pain, and harsh judgments, particularly of self.
But during my moments while walking lucidly, I know it is not these outside forces themselves that cause the suffering, but rather my own judgments of them. And I take solace in knowing it is within my power to wipe clear these beasts of my own creation.
It is easy to flog oneself to bloody ribbons, to bring more force to bear than one's harshest critic could ever gleefully smite upon you. It is easy to fall prey to the feelings of defeat, or despondency, melancholy, or worse, the numbing pain of not feeling. The crown weighs heavy on the shoulders of the King.
But we must rise when we stumble, when our illustrious failures are laid bare for the world to mock. We must celebrate 'being', however imperfect we may be. We must embrace the pursuits we strive towards, and the journeys we embark upon.
We do not live a thousand years. Death is our constant mentor, a capricious friend, ready to touch our lives in a way we cannot begin to fathom. For he will one day force the ultimate surrender that no man can refuse.
So while we rust, while it is in our power, we must live. Nodding at Tennyson, we must burn the candle at both ends. We must make an extraordinarily beautiful flame.
I refuse to live a painfully ordinary existence.
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"Intimacy is based on shared vulnerability...nothing deepens intimacy like the experiences that we share when we feel flayed, with our skins off, scared and vulnerable, and our partner is there with us, willing to share in the scary stuff"
-From The Ethical Slut by Dossie Easton and Catherine A. Liszt |
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There is a poem titled 'The Touch of the Master's Hand' by Myra Brooks Welch. The poem is about a violin, but you will often see it used in reference to religious motivational aspects.
When I read it though, I see its implication to M/s relationships, in particular a Master and his slave. Enjoy!
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"It was battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
Hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three",
But, No,
From the room far back a grey haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet,
As sweet as the angel sings.
The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.
"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.
The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
All battered with bourbon and gin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin.
A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.
But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Master's Hand."
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Breaking the Domme...
Power. Pursuit thereof...
I suppose it matters where one gets it, but some places are sweeter than others.
I just had a delicious vision and had to get it down before the wisps of sleepy forgetfulness stole it away in shattered fragments.
She was a *beautiful* Domme, magnificent in her splendor and power. Her slaves cringed at the lick of her single tail, and even more at the gentle caress of her breathy admonishment.
I saw her and knew I had to break her, to be mine.
She is even more beautiful worshipping at my feet, naked, save for the broken single tail laying under her palm. The depths and delivery of her long fall has left their deep marks on the flesh of her ravished soul, and the torn edges of her own betrayal cast a darksome light that glows on the sweaty sheen of my face as I break her for my pleasure, and then slowly mend her as she surrenders to my will, my slave, a grateful smile playing upon her lips... |
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Thank you passionateheat for your kind words in your journal entry. :) |
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What I look for in a slave was best said by Anais Nin. It is beautiful...
"I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don’t mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don’t mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling, be all that I am capable of doing, but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding." |
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I'm a TPE guy. (Total Power Exchange). Yes, that means I believe in the ownership of slaves (assuming it is consensual of course :) I believe it is a gift that is offered if a Master is fortunate enough to ever be blessed with this.
I am the "sadist". Actually, I am a part-time sadist. Part time because it is under control. Sometimes a moment in time brings it out. Other times, a certain person makes me seeth with a need to be cruel.
I am the "Edge Player". Not the best by any means, for there are some people I have encountered that simply stun me with their magnificence, talent, and skill. I watch closely, aspiring to simply be able to touch their craft...
I am the "Psychologist". But alas the vaunted halls of higher education do not yet recognize my craft. Perhaps, though, that is in my favor. I'd like to keep my favorite talent a commodity. I smile when I watch the realization travel the face of a slave as she realizes the strength of my grip on her soul; as her eyes light up and she spins in my arms, desperate to become one with me, to "slip into my skin with me". I love the feeling of Power as I accept her full surrender.
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I've been asked a few times so:
Meaning or significance of the name Nicholai: Victorious, conquerer of the people.
Applicable true. But I just like it because it's sexy as hell. |
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I've had a few people ask me what Devil's Fire is. It isn't very well known apparently and there are few if any references to it on the net. I was lucky enough to have a talented submissive show it to me.
Devil's Fire: It's a form of edge play that submissives absolutely love. Basically you take a very slender piece of metal (think of a piece of wire) about 8 inches long with wooden handles on one side. Holding onto the handle, you heat up the other side to red head and apply (only for a brief second) to erogenous zones such as breasts, inner thigh, labia area, etc. It's leaves a very small (pinhead sized) burn mark that disappears (and leaves no scars) after about 2 weeks.
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| Age: 28 |
| Gibraltar |
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