Pandora's Kinky box

And the body will follow

Andrea — Wed, 21 Dec 2011 01:54:24 +0000

I spent months here speaking of myself, of my feelings. I am lost into them like in this labyrinth I created, a realm where I am the owner of my own mind space, a king in a land of emptiness. Still though I find myself on my knees, suddenly, only because of the need to answer a series of simple personal questions, drowned again by the river of thoughts I always seems to have in my soul. Will you be able to help me in getting rid of this coating? this thick layer of dust that piled up upon a more deeper and true sense of self? These are the usual questions that are filling my mouth during the weird dreams of this week… because I never dreamed so much like this week and so vividly. I welcome sleep not like a blessing but like an adventure.
So my mind wonders and I find myself in difficulty, again. Why is so difficult to understand and find out what I like? Is that because of my rigid mind, where everything need to have an explanation and a reason? Or is it maybe because again my inner judge is so much stronger than I thought, taking pieces of myself as trophies for his reign of methodical madness? And how does fit in all this the perpetual chaos that lies in my room, where I wouldn’t even want to live but I force myself to survive?
Surely one answer is because I am scared that I might not like what I like. If I had an owner this would make much more sense, but somehow has a meaning even without that. It’s simply the intense fear of being rejected, the irrational feeling of loss… one would like to know and understand in order to please and serve perfectly, in doing so getting rid of the possibility of that rejection so many times experienced and introjected.
Also is quite difficult to discern because one thing is what I like and another think is what I need… can I make this choice by myself? Am I allowed, as a would be slave, to make a statement as this?
It’s a funny place the mind of a sub, I swear. There are things that we love, things that we hate, things that we get some pleasure from and thing that we adore to be denied or rules we want to follow, certain menial tasks that remind us what we are… most of the time I simply love to ask permission and that is because sometimes I expect a no. In asking permission I am giving the power to a “you”. I am delegating a decision to someone else. This is quite important in a slave psyche I suppose too, a simple dynamic of giving up our own control, a gift we are pleased and happy to give away, sometimes a way too lightly.
Also sometimes one doesn’t want to fix a course of action. To name is to block in the process of thought our memories about that specific item. How can I be sure what what you mean is what I mean? My memories are mine only, my meanings are my secret garden.
But funny enough, I’ve always been very bad in putting stuff in order of preference or give them a value. Why is so? Fear to decide? Even the most simple stuff sometimes puts me in a panic state. And that is why I stutter sometimes, because my mind goes too quick and my mouth cannot follow, stuck as it is in trying to elaborate something I consciously know is a mere meaning of a concept I will never be able to explain.
For we are lonely beasts. Were the mind goes the body will follow, with asynchronous grace.

But where my mind goes, right now, I don’t know.
I need a leash for it. I need thicker restraints.

(Waking Life – if you’ve never seen it, please do. You might understand why I can’t speak sometimes)

How intense is my need? How intense is your need?

Andrea — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 23:23:54 +0000

There are things one cannot speak of properly. In explaining those subjects what you might lack is simply the words. The universe of feelings is a dire bear, for one cannot be sure we mean the same thing when we speak of the same feeling. Everybody means something different.
Therefore explaining is necessary. A feeling cannot really be explained with word for words are limited to the here and now of a conversation. To feel is to subject your mind to a specific state, to talk of it is merely a collections of memories and hopes.
This is the main reason why I try to talk a lot. It’s not always understood by Masters or Tops but it’s beyond being necessary to me, is vital.
Certainly in my dreams what I look forward is simply someone who can break the chain of thoughts with a face slap or a bite of the whip and then proceed to put me in that state of mind and body that I so much long for. But that ideal situation is just what is it, ideal, it cannot happen. One must ask and explain and answer and then trying. It’s a process of trials and errors and in being so is extremely frustrating.
It’s frustrating for a very simple reason: my desire to serve and please and beg is much bigger than my thoughts. Is beyond my possibilities to express it. It’s scaring for it is so deep and strong that it doesn’t leave space for anything else. I cannot trace the boundaries of that field, is immense. It gave me sensations I didn’t know I could have and pleasures I didn’t know I could experiment. It gives me pains so exquisite that I know I can’t handle them without phasing out of my own mind.
Here is the core, the problem. I much talk about it and I try to put it in practice. But is not possible. It’s a state of mind that doesn’t belong to the usual consciousness of the daily mind, is a shift of paradigm that throw me deep inside a dark place I don’t know about it. Who do I give the keys to this place then? It’s so powerful and strong and beautiful but I can’t unleash unless I feel safe. And that safety is so hard to express and find too.
How can I try to live my sexual life fully if it requires such a degree of trust that can be found only in consumed and strong relationships?
I am puzzled. And frustrated again. I am at that silly stage where vanilla doesn’t really interest me anymore. I might still manage to get hard and even have an orgasm with a normal, vanilla intercourse. But I don’t see the point. It’s somehow a diluted version of what it can be. It’s not the real thing, it doesn’t give me the same pleasure.
I’m scared. I’m really scared. Did I crossed the threshold from an interest to a fetish and then to addiction?
Is my need of submission and humiliation and pain so strong that it took over all my pleasures?
Yes, I fear so. There is a beauty in being frustrated so much and so deeply but it’s a delicate balance on a very thin line. Then the frustration becomes too much and errors might happen and my souls is so open that scars take time to heal. And scars will happen indeed.

I don’t know what to do, I must be honest. I cannot go back where I was, thinking this might just be a phase. I cannot proceed and delve deeply in my depravity for reasons I spoke so much so many time about.

Where is the exit again? Where is my white rabbit?

Am I running up the wrong hill?

Generation aftercare

Andrea — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 21:11:16 +0000

I started quite an intriguing book ( you can find title and an excerpt here> https://kindle.amazon.com/post/2WMXVPTYX5FXV ) after a friend suggestion.
The story per see is nothing exceptional, t’s a simple and understated biography of a Dom… a self-proclaimed Leather Man and it’s supposed to be from a top perspective.
And this is extremely interesting and thrilling to read both because I can see through the eyes of a Top – although it’s restricted to the author view – and reflect on the bottom role.
But there is something even more interesting in what I read: nothing of that exists anymore. Or maybe I wasn’t lucky enough to find it.
I just started the book but the perspective I am reading and enjoying it something I never meet, something I never experienced so far. It seems there is a psychology and spirituality behind the Master/slave dynamic… and I didn’t use those words lightly. It seems there is a sort of integrity, a profound respect and an understanding and it’s striking me as beautiful and impossible.
As a sub, I know where I came from but sometimes I forget my need. I forget that what I crave is not only to serve and please but also to let myself go, to share myself, my insecurities, my fears, my believes, my experiences, my dreams, to be open finally.
We all know what it is that we look for at the end of the whip, but sometimes we forget for a very simple reason: we are lost in a world without care, a world without aftercare. A world where everything is expected and nothing is given. How may times I stepped out of a scene for this or the other reasons – most of the time my own fears or panic – and I’ve been approached in a positive manner and not dismissed? How many times? Zero. Yes, zero. I didn’t realize at the beginning, I thought I was weird and that it was my own problem to solve my emotional issues – and indeed it is – but reading of aftercare after a scene made me somehow glitch, I saw the white elephant and I understood that what I am looking for is a step behind me, a step higher.
It’s even more difficult now to reach it but it has a name… is a sort of mixture of pride and self-assurance, it’s understanding your own needs and wishes. It’s willing to be from myself.

Spirituality is the key. Because there is something strong and powerful in giving up oneself completely to be just a toy, to be only pleasure. There are too many underlying dynamics and so much energies and the place we could visit through them are so far and distant that it all seems like a different world. When I am there and the belt is coming on me, the second before I slip inside that space where everything is calm and flowing and so deeply perfect… that second is made of magic, is made of all the words I don’t have to explain it to you. But it’s there and it’s vibrant and it calls me because I know its taste, I know its color.
Could I talk about this with all the tops/Doms I served in the past years? No, not too all of them… probably only one or two could understand what I am writing and saying. Most of them will dismiss this as simply the blubbering of a demented child.
Because here we have arrived, because scenes are served on a massive scale and when you enter you’re just meat. You’re not a boy, you’re not a toy, you’re not property.
Property. What a funny little silly word this is… property. You go at his place, you’re his property for a couple of hours then you’re dismissed, off you go. You’re just meat on the altar for the simultaneity of this era.
We are meat, we are constantly asked to say yes always and more than always too. But is this the right way to play? Isn’t the slave supreme choice – the one to complete surrender - the one and only most wonderful thing we should have to give? So why pretend we can give it freely, without knowing the scene, without knowing the boundaries, without contracting the steps to indulge in?

What I seek it’s my pleasure and it’s yours too. Your pleasure is to have me and use me and show me places where I’ve never been. Your pleasure is to seek that pain I can give you the right to inflict on me because I want to, because I need to find my place in the fabric of reality.
But these days we have forgotten this little fact: it’s a game with two players, it’s a dynamic. It’s me and you giving shape to something that we can’t do alone.

So now I wonder why I can’t find you. Why I am not able to satisfy my hunger with just a night of passion and whipping. Maybe you are out there, matching my hunger with a mirrored taste.
My boundaries lie behind and underneath yours. I am the pillar where you can build your palace.
Because I am the meat that screams and says “Thank you Sir” and begs for more.

So go on, follow the path. I couldn’t care less. If you don’t see me, if you don’t see what I am and what we could be, you’re not that I can give myself completely too.
You’re one of the thousands in this world of blind people. And I seek the one who has an eye. I seek the King.

You can’t stop me.
I fly higher than you.
(Link to the book’s review: http://www.teddypig.com/2011/08/don-bastian-chainmale-3sm/ )

This makes for quite a depressing read indeed.

Andrea — Tue, 04 Oct 2011 02:02:59 +0000

I am sad, there is no denying it. I am deeply sad. The vague reasons for this sadness have been explored earlier in different posts so let’s not go there again.
There is though a central core of emotion that is extremely strong and very deeply disturbing and that’s the one have to drag with me every single minute of my life… you know what it is? Simple as it sound: eagerness to serve.
I don’t know if many Doms or Masters realize how deep this might run down in a slave soul. I cannot imagine what being a Master is so I can’t make assumptions, but I would like to explain this sentiment and the deepness of it and how it affect my daily life and my thoughts, both my normal thoughts and my horny ones. I think I spoke of it already but, hey, repetita iuvant.

The first and most important thing is the frustration of not being able to express this eagerness, the frustration of not serving. The desire I have to serve is so strong, so potent, that consumes me sometimes, really shadowing my intellect, dampening my logic and self-preservation. Self preservation… yes you got it. There were times in the past when something clicked inside me and my sense of self-preservation somehow disappeared – even briefly - and I could have done anything, anything without even thinking. Like a part of my brain was shut down and something else was in place, wanting more and more and never having to ask to stop. This eagerness is so strong that it led me to make in the past very stupid mistakes. I know now, I try to control it, but should I try to control it? Or these a sort of raw delight in it?
The core of my sadness starts from here, from a lost hope, from the thought that I will never be able to satisfy this ever-famished beast, a certainty that I will find no one to match this bottomless – no pun intended – frustration, someone to give it form and mold it into something else. The frustration is even bigger because I had a glimpse of its beauty, and when I mean beauty I mean Beauty with a capital B. I had a small glimpse of it and I saw how things could be deep and how the emotions would be overwhelming alongside never-experienced pleasures. I saw it, for god’s sake, I can understand it and I can see how marvelous it could be and YET again I can’t have it… because I am blocking myself, because I can’t find someone… the reasons doesn’t really matter here, the fact that matters is that once you’ve been there and you tasted it you want more and more and more. And I’ve been there for a moment and I know how it feels and it makes me feel very bad that I can’t have more of it again. I was there at a certain point, all beaten and horny and helpless and denied and I was feeling so suave - that is a good word for it – that I thought that there could be no coming back, that every moment would be like that. There was fear before but after the point of no return the fear vanished in a pool of moans. I was only pleasure, I was only a yes. I want to go back there so badly and I can’t and the frustration is directly proportional of the strength of that need.
Hence is a hell of a lot of frustration.

But there is more. There is the frustration for wanting and not being able to because I am stopped by my own fears. By the time I meet a Master, usually I already worked out a whole profile of him. I usually spend the time before the session trying to find out a way to not like him in order to made myself sure it won’t work. Why I do that? Fear. An almost paralyzing fear. Most of the time I react with irony as that is my easier weapon and my stronger shield – not taking myself seriously allows me to not take anyone or anything seriously too. But logic works the same way. I dismantle in order to put aside. Against this weaponry who will conquer the fort? I am the only one able to give the key and yet I can’t find the strength to give it to someone. I know it and it’s frustrating because I want to give it but I can’t.
Someone maybe should simply take it then? Yes – and no. The thought is even more scaring.

Then there is this: the knowledge I am wrong, even for slave standards. It’s not a game, it’s not supposed to be too much of a fair thing, to serve is to serve and is simple as that. Why so often I can’t? Why I can’t give everything. I know I can’t give everything so I don’t give anything at all because in this game I feel one should give either everything or nothing at all, there is no gray area here. So why can’t I do it the simple way: just serving? This is what most Masters expect and this is where I fail them most of the time: I desperately want to be ready but I am not.

Then there is that I am deeply romantic: I have epiphanies every now and again about my slave side and all I do is being struck with them, leaving them caressing my mind and soul but never really incorporating them, following them, making them true. It’s like I value those moments of clarity but I value them too much. I insult those little epiphanies – like the one I had today and that lead me to write this post – by simply being passive about them, making them somehow just a little piece of a puzzle I cannot solve with the inaction I represent in this moment of my life.

Also there is this brain of mine. It doesn’t shut, it doesn’t stop. Oh please give me a switch, give a moment of rest, please find me a quiet place where to rest and be silent and still. This brain of mine almost always slips in the cracks between things and words and I cannot recover it from there, it’s leaking everywhere. I can’t help it: I see meta-cognitive stuff everywhere. In my words, in my thoughts, in your words, in your gestures. Everything has a double, triple meaning and nobody is here to slap my face and make me stop once or twice or more… for as long as it takes me to make me silent.

And again this irrational fear: I don’t want to be there, I don’t want to feel like that anymore, all conditioned to serve and please and controlled and then the Master disappears and I feel a pain that has no words, that is like a hole in the stomach, like something I never experienced and I never really understood. But at the same time the thought of that kind of strong pain it is so sweet and terrible that it’s shining there with its meaning, inn-corruptible stigma that I am sick beyond normal, that I want myself to suffer both the beauty and the worst of it all.

This is masochism. It’s masochism at its core.

It’s me denying myself of everything. Because I ain’t no good.

Welcome

Andrea — Mon, 19 Sep 2011 23:42:59 +0000

I found myself in a strange place today, a blind spot in my emotions: rage.
I very very seldom get angry but somehow being here in this city and dealing with whom I’m dealing at work made me change, it made me become somehow more disillusioned, somehow more worried.
I understood a year ago I wouldn’t be able to cope with these kinds of jobs, mainly because the weight of responsibility is something I am not equipped to carry at the moment, for reasons yet to discover – even if I think those reasons are deeply related to the fact I hate to decide, to take decisions.Being responsible for a decision I made is something I can’t stand because I can’t be wrong? That would be the easy answer. It gets a bit more complicated than that though. Decisions are somehow deviations from a course of actions… you decide to go that way and then you have to stick up with what you choose, and that’s what I can’t do by myself. It’s not necessarily simply being immature, it’s simply being tactically unable to understand the better options or unwilling to believe in the right horse. It’s more than everything being stupid, believing in a very naïve way that everybody will not care, that everybody doesn’t care.

It’s more than everything doing the wrong thing: applying to the rest of the world my own limitations, my own moral, my own believes. Why do I think everybody thinks sort of like me and they will not mind this or that? Why do I think everybody is laid back like me and they don’t have a hidden agenda or they don’t have some kind of purpose?
Then the logic kick in and make me think that certainly they mind, that certainly they must be well aware of their place, that they must compete.
Listen to this carefully: competition here is the key. In a world filled with it I have to be extremely paranoid, I have to take care of myself because everybody wants me to compete with them. Here is another key: they can win, I don’t care. It’s like being eternally subservient in a pack of wolves where everybody wants to be alpha and you just want to be left in peace.
The world is not a common place for a submissive like me, it’s a field of mines one need to be very careful to not blown up.
Because one thing might be serving and submitting to someone willingly and then doing a mistake, another thing is being responsible for something and screwing it up. The process is the same, a punishment will be made but I don’t know the measure of it, I don’t know the ramifications and then I feel stressed about every single decision because it might inevitably lead to an error.
This is actually funny, if you think about. As a human being I am asked to be an alpha to be successful, to make a career, to make money. As a submissive every step I take to try to get me a better life with more commodities goes against it because a career is just stress blossoming like flowers in spring and money is power I spend in futile stuff. Success is made with prevarications of others and it doesn’t give me anything, it doesn’t give me any pleasure… sometimes it even irritates me because it’s too easy.
Am I up for the challenge? No, the challenge is non-existent. Am I too lousy for the challenge? Yes and then I am stressed by my many errors because I want to be perfect.
It’s never-ending. it’s a full-time social masochism.

But then in all this today I felt something, something new. I was standing there and I saw someone was somehow scared of me.
I was sick of it. Really sick.
What just passed in my mind was this? “You fear me? I hate you. You’re not stronger than me, you’re nothing.”
And at the same time: “You fear me? I hate you, you don’t know me well or you wouldn’t fear me.”

So I was somehow standing there, sick and sad because someone I don’t know doesn’t see me for what I am and thinks I care about things I don’t care and thinks I am angry at things I am not angry.
I understood I am doing something wrong, very wrong. The perception I have of myself is not the perception people have of me.
And this is something that scares me. Completely makes me cry inside. Why? Why I need to be so much open and clear?

In dealing with a Dom, I know the rules. I know my place. I know I will be punished and I might even like it. I know some things will be done to me that I will not like and that will happen because that’s part of the deal, that’s part of the place I should be as a slave. I know I have to serve and please and I like to, I love to, I crave to. I know I have to follow my orders and I feel safe in doing it.
In dealing with the other people there is no rules I can cling to, there are no right or wrong. There are a multitude of different rules and I will never master them as I am socially inadequate to deal with them. I am not stupid, I am simply blind to what might be important for almost everybody while I take great care in things that nobody really care about.

I am trying to learn from my mistakes… but I feel like a stupid child dealing with a world of lunatics. Why she is so angry about that? What have I done to make him sad? Why is so sarcastic? Why is he not speaking to me anymore?
Rules of attraction and repulsion, like stand alone atoms.
There is not such a thing as a general theory of relativity.
All I see is the a Heisenberg uncertainty principle of human relationship proportions.

Welcome to my nightmare. I think you’re going to like it.
Maybe.

Holiday with no rest

Andrea — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 12:41:05 +0000

It’s holiday time. The sun is shining the men are hot and tanned but I am sad.
The first thing to make me sad is probably the fact that I am still heavily pointed at and insulted on the streets. I never really got the impression I belonged here, to my country – Italy -, but every time I come back and I experience the bigotry of my people, I am really knocked down and I feel sad. I can’t go out during the evening, to just walk with my sh0rts on the street filled with people and shops, that someone will point at me, will call the friends and tell them to watch at me… most of the time it’s quite young people, barely 18 yo, from the south by the accent.
It hurts still, it makes me think even more I don’t belong to anywhere, that my place would simply be a hidden and remote hermitage. I considered, when I was young, to join the rank of the hermits that secluded themselves in pace and harmony. It’s a pity I don’t really believe in god anymore.

Then I am sad because I am thinking. I am thnkinking about all the promises that have been made and never kept, thinking about all the trust I gave and now I can’t give anymore after all that happened.
Sometimes I want just very simple things, like resting my head on broad shoulders or arms strong enough to hold me.
I want to belong to someone somehow but here I am, alone again, dreaming of something that will not happen.

I might need change but I don’t know where to start from. Everything seems so difficult and heavy.
All I have is Borges today with me in this holidays. In his worlds I loose myself and maybe one day someone will find me.

I hope it won’t be too late.
Or maybe that time is already passed and all I have it just waiting for my flowers to wither.
Someohow it feels so. It feels so terribly so.

There was a time

Andrea — Wed, 17 Aug 2011 05:46:39 +0000

These weeks have been particularly interesting. Nothing really new on the matter of finding a Master but a lot has been said and wrote and thought and all of that will eventually finish here in a way or the other… but still doubts are hunting me and it’s the nature of that doubts that I would like to explore.
I am beginning to lose hope. I already said something like that in the past but now is more of a certainty than anything. I am looking at my behaviour in the last months and all I can see is a specific kind of closure, a cage of the soul I am beginning to build on myself in order to avoid further complications. I refused a lot of meetings, mostly based on the solid fact that nothing was discussed with the Master and therefore I didn’t feel safe. Although I could go with the logical part of the reasoning – not putting myself in danger is paramount especially given my absolute stupidity and naïvety (not sure about the spelling here – please forgive any mistake!) – still though certain meetings could have taken place without too much of a hassle but I choose not to. Why? There is no doubt about the deepness of my eagerness to serve and please, and to that I am starting to add also the strong desire of being punished or humiliated. There is no doubt about the erotic connotations these activity have on my fantasies as there is no doubt about the fact I am born to serve. Still though, a strong part of myself is fighting against this impulse and at the moment it’s winning.
To be honest what I am looking for is a kind of relationship any society in the world would find somehow wrong. Therefore is very much easy to simple dismiss these urges or give them the benefit of doubt while trying to satisfy them. And after that is really simple to justify the high degree of expectations I have, putting them under the category “too good to be true”.
What in the past were just mere speculations now raised to the status of certainty: BDSM is a difficult place filled with unsafety and recklessness and people who simply want a quick and kinky fuck. I am too far from these conditions to find myself at ease with requests of serving coming from total strangers. What make me say “yes Sir” is a mental state that can be triggered only by a certain amount of affinity with the person I am going to serve. I’m not a ready-made slave and at this moment I am even very far from a slave mind as I’ve ever been. I lost the hope that finding a suitable Master would be possible. I have a feeling it will be strictly speaking impossible both because of my high expectations and the recklessness of these self called Masters. A good simple example is the fact I’ve been “summoned” by a few people during the UK riots. Before they settled down, it was quite difficult or next to impossible to travel but I’ve been asked to come that night to this place or that other night to that other place. To me this sounds like putting someone under unnecessary risk. One can wait a day or two to have his balls emptied I think.
This kind of behaviour doesn’t only make me sad but also angry. It feeds my self-induced paranoia.
And then in the meanwhile time is passing by, I am getting older and older and possibly nothing scares me more than waking up one day, finding maybe a wrinkle or two and finding out I didn’t achieve anything, that I just waited and waited for nothing. That day is not too far.
There was a time I could wait. Now I can’t wait any-more. I have to do what I hate the most. I have to decide and stick up with my decision.
Will I be able to? Will I be happy in the future if I give up? Is there a way to win the fight with the shadow or it will always hunt me down on day or another to show me that I did everything wrong another damn time?

It might be time

Andrea — Sun, 03 Jul 2011 17:31:18 +0000

In considering my actual situation I have to take into account a couple of vital questions: am I leading a slave life? Am I trying out what being a slave means? The question to both answers is sadly and obviously negative hence it put me in an akward situation.
Giving that in trying to pursuing this life style I always tend to do the same things I did in the past, the same errors repeated over and over, I am even more usure anything will happen anytime soon. Certainly there are no epiphanies on the horizon since so far things are working out pretty badly, maybe just the possibilites of a little bit of excitement and the usual sexual arousal we all have to experiment every now and again.
For the matter, I am at the moment quite horny as it happens even to me every now and again but I am keeping myself somehow chaste… the desire, the longing for a certain kind of sex or session is somehow sweeter than simply wanking off a xtube video and anyway the general feeling I have after that kind of orgasms it’s just a sort of athletical achiement. It’s nice but could be better. It could be earned.

I came to think if the instrument I am using to find people interested in this lifestyle are somehow wrong. The websites offering this sort of satisfactions are indeed for the most just a collection of wankers – more or less – and any sort of meeting is extremely difficult to se up, not to mention the fact I need a neutral drink before any sort of activity – a sort of benchmark of whom I am supposed to serve.
Maybe I should go out more, but if so where and how? Certainly this city is full of fetish clubs and avenues but the idea of me going alone in one of this places somehow sounds a bit odd… shy as I am I would probably end up being a perfect flowerpot – certainly a sort of allure for someone but maybe not for the kind of men I need lol. Because, indeed, I can see it’s a need, a deep need not just a fantasy.
Somewhere though is stuck in my brain an idea of what should happen, how it should be and it’s hard to meet my expectiations because not even I meet them.
I would like to be the slut I am supposed to be, always horny and ready. But I am not. I am still a human being. Dammit!

and the animal I feel inside me

Andrea — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 00:44:14 +0000

It seems quite obvious I am not exactly happy these days. I have tried to understand the reason for quite a lot of time and I must say I didn’t reach any solution.
I found out though a few points that maybe I must investigate a little bit further and I will put under scrutiny of my small public hoping they might form a more complete impression of my personal world.

As a slave, one thinks, “to obey” should be the rule. To obey and to please is what every Master demands and is such a simple rule that we shouldn’t really spend any further second thinking about it. But is not the rule I am interested, it’s the reason behind it that thrives me.
I am not here to make a wild assumption for every slave out there, for ever sub willing to serve, what I am here for is just to try to see why and how this rule apply to me and how I feel in relation to this rule.
The matter, to be honest, is not that easy. Obeying or serving or pleasing are somehow enjoyable activities for me, I like very much the idea of being a pleasure toy, an instrument of someone else’s pleasure. But why is so? This is the question of the week and I came with two different impressions about it, both of them troublesome somehow.
The first impression is because it makes me useful: in being pleasure I find my own place since it gives me a purpose, a goal.
The second impression is because it focuses me on someone else. Since every day I am focused on my own sadness, having an external point of interest makes me less prone to that feeling.
What is good? What is bad? Who am I to know? At the moment I am quite lost in the forest of my feelings, with no chart or map hence is quite difficult to see the route.
Is this feeling common to un-owned boys? Or is the thought of being something common among subs even more pathetic? Like somehow my doubts and my pains are to make me someone of a group, a group with a specific reason to be, a group with a precise identity.
I don’t see this two thought interfering with my certainty of being a sub though, it is clear to me that something buried deep inside of me wants to come out and be tamed and owned.
That something though at the moment is facing the strong wind of my intellect, raising in my head questions of authenticity of my own feelings.
It’s clear, again, I am sadly not at all a no-brainer. Do I say so out of pride? It is an interesting question this as I was been told sometimes that maybe I lack pride or maybe that I have too much of it… probably this declarations were more reflections of the type of slave the Masters I was speaking with have in their mind, but it’s interesting anyway.
Should a slave show pride? Should he not?
Othello might have the answer, a pity he lost his temper down there in Denmark.

There is a certain degree of mysticism in me I suppose and that creates a very deep and romantic attitude. I was contemplating the songs of my favorite italian singer and I could see that they were all speaking (at least my favs) of a sort of complete and cosmic love, very much universal as not so god-driven in a pure christian sense… pure simple love for and from the nature, encompassing time and space.
The nature of my mysticism, that I try to dilute giving it a romantic and then decadent expression, is at this very moment another mystery for me.
Surely my quest in finding a route to sub-space, a route that somehow I see difficult but certainly deeply important, is definitely of this sort. Trying to find the path to ecstasy through pain and pleasure, as much silly as it can sound, is deeply rooted in a mystic view of the universe, like loosing oneself in the depth of the un-consciousness (not to confuse with sub-conscious in a more freudian way) and maybe this romantic feeling is a form of love that knows no boundaries… ones that I thought a s/M relationship could give somehow.

And then there is quite a few physical manifestations of my cravings. A couple of them comes to my mind in no strict order of importance: punishments and denial.
If still I didn’t really understand my quite silly thrive for punishments of various sort, I certainly put down something nice about denial.
As I am speaking I don’t think of denial as a total form of chastity (please forgive me out there if I’m using a specific term to accommodate my own thoughts) but I am more thinking of it as the edging games everyone should try once in a lifetime. Did you really try it? Did you really really give it a solid try?
After some basic edging session that I give to myself just for the sake of fun, I must admit that I came out with this thought: Who on hell wants to orgasm now?
The pleasure is not in the orgasm per see, but in the waiting for hit… there is so much more building up of feelings and wonderful sensations than in the discharge of it.
To be honest the discharge, even if I am not a fool and I admit is great, seems last so little and is following by a usual regret, while the building up can last for ever and every single moment becomes more and more intense and pleasurable. Why would I consciously decide to cum when the moment right after is so wonderful and deep and it makes me feel so wonderfully horny?
Am I the only one feeling like this?

I hope I am not.
The animal I’m hatching inside is still immature, still far, still so little powerful. What can I do to unleash it? Who can help me doing that? Or maybe shall I do it alone?
Questions, questions, the bane of my life.
Probably also what keeps me going on. What keeps me somehow alive.

Then in the end my own sadness becomes like an armor, an icy cover that belongs to me as much as everything else inside my soul.
After some time that icing became part of me, a strong pillar for my own personality.
And maybe the quest for happiness is not possible anymore for it will bring me destruction, it would bring me a new me to take care of.
We’ll see.
I’m still looking for help. As always.

Oh well

Andrea — Sat, 26 Feb 2011 21:40:48 +0000

I am going through a lot of very different and difficult periods. None of them is really interesting or fun, let’s simply say I wish I would be somewhere else or someone else, I wish I made different decisions in the past, I wish I would have read different books or visited different dreams. I am not who I am suppose to be, or maybe I am what I could be with what was left of me after years of obscure melancholy. Work is what it is, my sentimental life is generally non-existant, I can number my friend in my right end and all of them are inherited from my high school in Italy, so clearly something must be wrong there.
How I ended up being a sort of manager, me that I clearly lack and sense of leadership, that I despise making decision and giving orders, how I ended up I was saying is a mystery it will take me the rest of my funny life to find out.
I try not to lose hope but I think I might be on the verge of the loss already, swimming in waters that I don’t like and that don’t make me in anyway happy.
A friend of mine said I am a missed concubine… and I don’t think he knew how much truth there was in his words. Or maybe he did and that makes him even more precious (but so distant stuck there in that country that I left years ago to come here in London)

In moments like this one must have a personal space where to hide, a form of Tiffany’s of Capotean memories, a shelter from the overall ugliness of the world, a wall against our own impending demise.
Mine are all very mental space, go figure, and I find them quite revealing my personality.

The first one is the Muppets. I suppose everybody knows the Muppets and everybody spent hours watching them and memorizing every single sketch as a magical formula against any kind of sadness. If not, my friends, let me tell you that in them you will find not only wonderful music but also the balm your soul is craving for, the medicine to mend your broken heart, the pills to colour your sight of pinks and greens and reds over the rainbow.
Looking at the same hilarious sketch will not wear it, will not diminish its power. Watching the same sweet candy song will not gives you less and less pleasure but always the same amount of warm feelings, if not more when in dire need.

The second place is probably Quantum Physics… for reasons that I still have to understand, the mind-crashing logic of the quantum paradoxes are making me extremely dependent on new knowledge and new ways to understand this really funny place we are bound to inhabit for the rest of our life. The fact that sometimes I even understand what they are talking about maybe also helps.

Then there is computer games. Since I am a free slave (lol what an oxymoron) I can spend as much time as I like on silly games, conquering galaxies, killing dragons, saving random peasants from the brutality of the dark ages. It is very funny to remark that no matter what I do, I try to go for the “good” path but I find i very very hard do displease my companions even if is obvious they are evil and they don’t like my course of very good actions. Somehow, even in computer games, I try to avoid conflicts being quite submissive? LOL there is no real hope then form me.

I suppose this three little places where I go to hide when I am sad, are something that speaks about me a lot. Indeed.
And then there is of course the random xtube video (the one where the sub is too cute and moaning so nicely that you cannot avoid to add to your already immense list of favourites). But maybe that’s more jerking material.
Which, looking at things from the bright side, is something that I can go back to do very often and everywhere. Since I am free again and the only limit to my orgasms is my imagination. Charming!