Wrong

I don't know what's wrong with me. Well, it's more that I can't pick what's wrong with me from this long, long laundry list of options that's going around in my head.

• I have no real sense of self or independent identity
• I'm indecisive
• I'm a weird combination of self-loathing and self-absorbed
• I'm highly anxious and averse to risk or conflict.
• I don't trust easily or communicate well
• I seem to sabotage every good thing in my life
• I have the emotional maturity and awareness of a severely autistic five year old
• Etc
• Etc
• Etc

I think it's three that's the big issue. I live too much in my own head, the trouble is that that's often a pretty hostile environment. Some of the time I'm fully in charge of myself, and I can control the little voices that tell me I'm no good and that everything I do is hopeless and doomed to failure because suffering is the only constant of the universe and that's a good thing because I deserve to suffer to make up for all the people I hurt who I'm supposed to care about.

And other times, like the last week or so, not so much.

I don't know why I'm so fragile, and I don't want to be. It's a shameful thing.

I don't relate well to my own feelings. They're like...a fracture. I can't feel it unless I touch it, but touching it hurts, so I don't touch it. In fact, I'm vaguely upset at the fact that they exist at all, not to mention my own lack of control over them. It's easier to just escape, withdraw, avoid. Pretend nothing bad is happening.

That's not healthy. It's destructive. I wouldn't care that much if it hurt just me, but it hurts the people around me and that's something I don't want.

Only problem is, what do I do? I can't change my entire psychology, can I? But I equally can't listen to the part of me that's always saying that this is what I deserve, that I was meant to be alone and that it's not fair for me to inflict my damage on others.

I don't want to give up, but it's very easy to think of myself as a lost cause. As on a pre-ordained trajectory that ends in well-deserved, lonely ignominy. As lacking the strength to overcome even my inconsequential problems.

This might all just be venting. The blogging equivalent of vomiting out the hangover from a binge of negative emotions. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow with my eyes clear again and able to see myself accurately, or maybe I'll just be deluding myself into thinking that my problems aren't so bad and getting on with things until the next time I undermine my marriage with nothing more than my own neuroses and some obsessive escapism.

For someone who spends so much time looking into himself, I'm awfully lacking in self awareness. It's like every time I look inside me, there's just a storm, and looking any deeper than the waves on top of it is too painful and difficult to be borne. So it's just wasted time and wasted energy, a distraction. Sartre would say that I was living in bad faith, Kierkegaard that I was living in despair.

My desire for structure wants me to give this a conclusion of some kind. There really isn't one because this issue isn't resolved. It's become an issue by the very fact of its irresolution. Of my irresolution. Of my own formlessness. These thoughts aren't concentrated into anything useful. but at least they're out, I guess.

I just want to be happy in myself, and to make the people I love happy. I don't understand why such a simple thing needs to be so difficult.

2014 Review

2014 was a weird year.

It started with migraines and ended with gastroenteritis, but in the middle there were some pretty good times. There were some bad ones, as well, but on balance it was an alright year in the personal world.

I've got to think that if you include all the stuff that happened in the world, and there seemed an unnecessarily large amount of it, maybe that would change. But this is a personal and kink blog, and I'm reviewing this in the light of my personal, kinky life.

In a way, the year kind of came full circle - we started out with a renewed dynamic, and we ended with a renewed dynamic. In the middle, there were times where it fell apart, and they weren't good. But as we close in on our second wedding anniversary, I feel like our relationship has never been stronger.

I think that's the real lesson I've taken from this year, across all the areas of my life. Persistence and an ability change the way you do things if the results displease you are the keys to doing things well. Being pleased with little steps and taking pride in them, rather than going for the big win or the quick fix. Not rushing things.

I don't really go in for new years resolutions, but if I did, these would be mine. Just to continue the way things are going- a slow, steady, upwards trend. Also, I'd like to lose about 10 more kilos, but that's neither really here nor there.

Seems like I should be paying more attention to the little things. This year was busy as fuck, we tried and did so many big and  little things. Our holidays, our trip to OzKinkFest, trying watersports, all the scenes and fucking, and all the other moments and developments. It's honestly a blur, a lot of it, but it's a happy blur.

I look forwards to next year, and hope it's just as happy and less of a blur.

In Summer Rain

We took the dog for a walk, trying to get the blood pumping after a slightly over-gluttonous Christmas day.

The weather was a bit unsettled, as it often is in our neck of the woods through spring and early summer. As a consequence, we got soaked in a sudden fall of icy rain, running for the car, slipping and sliding on the muddy walking trail.

We got home, and stripped off our wet clothes. I don't know if you've ever seen rose in her underwear, hair wet, blood pumping from the cold rain and the dash for the car. But I can tell you, it's a pretty appealing sight.

I had to take her, and I did.

I took her to the bedroom, took off what was left on and threw her onto the bed.

I ate her tight little cunt until she gushed and came, moaning and shaking.

I pushed her down and slid into her, pinning her hands above her head, both her wrists in one of my hands, feeling her squeeze me each time I pressed down.

I fucked her. Harder. Faster. Called her my slut. My whore. My fuckdoll. My good little slavecunt.

My hand on her throat, eyes of a predator boring into her.

I tell her to cum.

She cums for me. I cum for her.

We flop into the bed, panting, shaking, her head tucked into my chest.

"I love you, Master."

"I love you, pet."

Training Wheels

I never really learned to ride a bike as a child. I mean, I tried to learn, but when I was about six or so I had a fairly bad accident and never quite got back on. Suited me, I was a lazy, uncoordinated kid anyway, and I seem to remember never really being comfortable on the bike anyway.

This is a very strange beginning to a blog about kink, but do bear with me, I'm pretty sure I've got a point.

Recently, Rose has been taking the dog for a ride with her on her bike. She rides, he trots along, I...stayed home. I decided that, bugger it, I'm going to come along, even if I can't ride a bike. So I bought an adult tricycle. After the massive headache of assembling the thing, and a period of adjustment to it, I've got to say it's pretty fun. My terrible balance isn't a handicap anymore, and I can get out with rose and our poodle and enjoy some good exercise and bond with both of them. It's nice, I enjoy it, we feel like a right little family.

Ok, now we're getting to the point. I promise.

The point I'm trying to make is that if there's something you want to do, find a way to do it, even if that method is unconventional. Even if it might make you feel slightly ridiculous at first. Because trust me, I look ridiculous on that trike. A large, overweight man with too much hair being pulled along on a giant tricycle by a tiny little miniature poodle? If I saw that on TV, I'd sure laugh.

But here's the thing. That's not important. Appearances aren't anything to worry about, and living up to other people's standards is a surefire path to misery.

Rose and I have been doing really well, lately. Our dynamic has been very good, as has our relationship. I think it's because I've found and embraced that third wheel. Found my balance. Started to come into myself as a Dom, and realise that the only standard, the only image I need to live up to is my own.

Attempting to be MasterLordDomlySir the Magnificent and Infallible, attempting to live up to an image that was unattainable, that's not who I am. It might work for some people, but it's not me- apologies to the old schoolers rolling their eyes at the young turk- and it doesn't have to be.

Because for the longest time, I wanted to be. I projected that on to rose. I would beat myself up for not living up to what she wanted, when really what she wanted was for me to be happy in myself. Which of course gave me great excuses not to try, or to try and then beat myself up when I failed.

Now I'm just being me, and it turns out that when I'm just allowing myself to do what comes naturally instead of trying to live up to an ideal, it just...works.

I'm not MasterLordDomlySir the Magnificent and Infallible.

I'm just Master me. Not magnificent. Not infallible. Just happy and fulfilled.

That, as it turns out, is a lot better.

The pursuit of happiness..

Here comes a wall of text! (Tl;dr I'm a mental case but in a good place at the moment)

I have something of an out of control brain at times. Myers-Briggs type INTP, tendencies towards anxiety, inner dialogue I'm only nominally in control of, and a tendency to fixate on and obsess over my many failures and failings, and creating self-fulfilling prophecies that tend bring down the things I try to do.

I endlessly catalogue and analyse my lowest moments and the things that lead to them. I don't do that when I'm happy, and the result is that I tend to understand why and when I'm sad, and be bewlidered by the things that make me happy.

A month ago, I was at a very low moment. My self confidence was missing, as it sometimes goes. A combination of factors, which aren't really productive to go into had dragged me back down again. The result is that I become a pretty toxic person to be around, especially for the people who love me.

I withdraw, avoid, disengage. Try and hide myself in whatever distraction is convenient. I ignore the people around me, knowing that I'm hurting them, but unable to do anything else for fear of making it worse. Despair is a hard feeling to escape from under.

A month ago, I found myself comforting my wife, in bed and in tears at three o'clock on a sunday afternoon, her own sense of self-worth completely eroded by the disappearance of mine. Understandably, seeing this and knowing I had caused it was heartbreaking. I love this woman more than anything, and to have made this happen was...excruciating.

But it was also catalysing. We talked a lot. All afternoon, about the things we'd been feeling, and what might have caused them. Then, a new sense of intimacy blossomed. We played. We fucked. And since then, things have been...good.

I'm not sure why, not sure what's changed in me. But I feel different, and that confident, strong feeling has stayed longer than it has in the past under similar circumstances. I feel so much more sure of myself than I'm used to.

I just can't work out why! That part of my brain that's obsessively self-conscious is missing in action.

That's...uh. Well. Hm. That's probably the answer, huh?

Routine

Hi, everyone. It's been a while since I've posted. Do I say that every time? Anyway. In the past, I've really not cared much for routines. If there's one thing about me that I'm certain of, it's that I'm very much an improviser. I like to go with the flow, and adapt to things as they come up, do things as I think about them rather than doing things the same way every day. I've tended to associate routines with boredom and stagnation, things I like to avoid when I can. Recently, though, things have changed my opinion on the matter. If you read my rose's blog (and if you read mine and don't read her's, what the fuck is wrong with you? Her one is a thousand times better than mine, so get following it), you'll know that up until a couple of months ago, things had been...not so grand for us. For various reasons, which I'll identify as being because a lot of the time I'm really too lazy to be a good dom. There, I said it. I know part of my love of not having an organised life or a structured day is that it gives me the chance to slob out of doing things that need doing. Always the ability to put off until tomorrow what I should be doing today. Which for a Master with a slave who thrives on order, and stability, who needs to be secure before she can be happy, is the absolute worst thing to have. It makes me think things like "I'm not happy with what she's doing, but I'll let it slide this time. If she does it again, I'll make something of it". Except next time, I think the same thing again. I never do anything about it, and I feel a little less powerful, and she feels a little less cared for. A little less able to trust me to be there, perhaps. So I've changed that. Or rather, I'm changing that. I'm trying to change it in all facets of my life. In our relationship. In my personal habits. I'm getting there, slowly. But what's really working is having a routine to build our day around, especially now I have a job that I'm working at full time. I'm learning the value of these things. That being stricter, consistantly, is not only possible, but pleasant. That having the security that that provides has the benefits of providing me with a happier, more confident slave. And though we've had to spend a lot more time apart than I'd like, it does have the side-effect of making appreciate the time we do get together more, and want to make the most of it. So at the moment, our routine looks like this. Wake up together when my alarm goes off. I normally find her with her head pressed into my chest. Never quite sure how she can breathe, but she must manage ok. Dressed. Breakfast. Spend a few moments cuddling and chatting, groping, kissing. Bonding. Head out to work. The feeling of knowing that she's there at home, waiting, eagerly excited that I'll come home makes my days feel very positive and special. It's not a rule as yet, but pet has been using an app called Astrid to organise her days for when I'm not here. The great thing is, I can see what she puts on her to-do list and checks off of it. I really enjoy that feeling of being connected like that, of keeping an eye on her and being able to push her when she's not feeling up to things, and reward her when she does well. Come home. Receive the happy greetings of a loving slave who's missed her Master. Spend the evening enjoying each other's company and our mutual interests. This is honestly my favourite part of the day. Being able to relax and just enjoy being with her, the woman who is not only my slave and my lover, but also my partner and my best friend. Then bedtime. Sometimes I put her to bed and hold her until she falls asleep, then get back up for a bit, if I'm not tired yet. Othertimes, we go to bed the way we woke up. With a routine like that, who'd really want to change things? (edited for massive formatting fail. WTF is with this new blogger interface?)

Valentine's Day, 2012

So it's Valentine's Day again.

Those of you who know me, may know that I don't particularly care much about about it. The simple fact is that I believe if you love someone, if you care about them, if you're in a relationship with them, is that you shouldn't confine making them feel special to one day of the year. Every day is an opportunity to make your partner feel loved, to show them that you cherish them, whether that's in large ways or small. I'm not always very good at doing this, but I do try.

But there is some value to having a day to celebrate love in general, and the love in your life, specficially. So I wanted to take some time to talk about the love in my life.

So the rest of this post is to you, pet. I was looking for an anctual card yesterday, but none of them were right. The sweet ones were too boring or too sappy, the silly ones not showing enough seriousness, the sexy ones too crude or boring. So I decided to write you my own.

To say thank you, for everything that you give to me.

Thank you for being mine. Thank you for being the slave, the pet, the love, the rose that you are, and for all the happiness and pleasure that you bring me. Thank you for the pride in both of us that you make me feel.

Thank you for being sexy. Thank you for being sweet. Thank you for being silly. Thank you for being smart. Thank you for the cakes, cookies, crumbles and curries. Thank you for ice-cream for breakfast, and late night skinny dipping.

Thank you for killing it with hammers made of lava. Thank you for Lord of the Rings Marathons. Thank you for long car rides together. Thank you for Rebels games, "I'm Going To the Picnic" and getting bitten by possums.

Thank you for all the orgasms. Thank you for the spankings. Thank you for the look in your eyes as my hand goes around your throat. Thank you for the sweet, slow, soppy sex and the rough, hard, nasty sex and all the joy curled up together afterwards.

Thank you for putting up with me, even when I'm not the Master or the partner someone like you deserves. Thank you for being calm when I'm upset. Thank you for being sensible when I'm foolish. Thank you for being patient when I'm grumpy. Thank you for your support, your care and the love you show me every day.

But most of all, thank you for letting me love you, slavedoll.

You are the light of my life, pet. My most cherished posession, my best friend and my perfect drug. I promise to spend the rest of my life trying my best to love you the way you deserve.

I love you, pet.

Happy Valentine's Day. (And 46th anniversary of the decimalisation of currency in Australia)