One last thought about Professional Domination

I wrote a bunch the other day about professional domination, but I missed one important item -- safety. Seeing a professional dom, whose been around for a while, has a little bit of reputation, and seems interested in her skills as a dom has, oddly enough, been very safe. Professionals are ususally interested in having you come back, so even thought limits are pushed, they are seldom trangressed.

On the other hand, a quick look at craig's list or other amateur sites show how really scary it is out there.

One of the commentators to this weblog made a comment about how it "sucks" that I was involved with a professional dominant. Mistress Katja was offended by the comment, and I’ve been thinking about it a little bit.

I saw my first professional dominant about 30 years ago, and, while not really experienced, have had long term relationships with three different dominants. I’ve also been married to a woman who was interested in kinky sex play, and I’ve been a member of various kink clubs or groups.

The biggest issue is the invisible hand of Adam Smith. Quite simply, the supply of beautiful dominant women is limited and the supply of submissive guys like me is big. So, if I was a woman with an interest in kink, I’d have a wide supply of submissives to choose from. On the other hand, beautiful women in leather don’t line up to date me.

Which brings me to the next issue – Beauty. When I’m in sub-space, I think I’d roll over for the ugliest person in the world. But to get to sub-space, for me there has to be that initial attraction. Most professional doms that I have seen are beautiful, some quite so. I think that at heart I’m hetero, so the beginning of a sub-dominant relationship I think for me needs to be hetero. I know Mistress Katja has been changing my thinking about my relationship with men, but I still don’t look at men walking down the street in the same way that I look at women. At the SM club in my town, I have to say the number of beautiful women is limited. (Many of the beautiful women there are gay, and aren’t interested in me). And I may be politically incorrect, but weight is a big issue for dominant women. I recently put a personal on Alt.com, and all of the responses were from very heavy women. I’m sure I could be submissive to them, but I’m not going to seek them out.

Lastly, for a guy like me, the clean, pure altogether submissive relationship with a dominant woman works just great. The mixed messages I’ve had in non-professional relationships are often difficult. Mistress Katja, on the other hand, seems to be interested in seeing how far she can push my boundaries, not something that can be done on a daily basis.

The commentator indicated that my relationship with Mistress Katja wasn't real. On the contray, I think it's one of the most real things I've ever done. I look at my time with Mistress Katja as one of the great adventures of my life. I’ve run out of money, but that’s a temporary thing. She has been great – imaginative, cruel, insightful, and beautiful.

Out of custody

In June, Mistress Katja and I agreed to a "sabbatical" from chastity. There were a number of reasons for this, all on my part. First, I found it impossible to ride a bike with the chastity device on. Because I wasn’t riding my bike I was getting fat, and somewhat depressed. The other reason was financial. I simply couldn’t afford to see her as often as either she or I would like. So I’m sorry to disappoint my half-dozen regular readers and I have no new tales of pain or humiliation.

Some of you might like to know how its been. Aside from the freedom to masturbate, my life hasn’t changed all that much. I still follow most of the feminization routine that Mistress ordered. That is - panties every day, bubble baths twice a week, perfume every day, legs nicely shaved. I’ve given up my regular visits to the nail salon. Cost again, but when I took the polish off I discovered a nasty fungus under my nails. I’m sure I picked it up at the nail salon and it’s going to take forever to get rid off. Mistress insisted that while I was on sabbatical that I not ‘play’ at chastity, so I haven’t. I still tend to sit down when I pee, although being free to stand up is great at times. One thing that has changed thought, is that I now jerk off to pictures of men.

Emotionally, its been difficult. I miss seeing her, and I also really miss the ever present reminder of my sexuality that was locked on my penis. I thought that I would jerk off like crazy when I was released, but what happened was that my general interest in sex decreased somewhat. I’ve also realized that a good whipping every so often does wonders for my mental condition. I saw an item on the net a while back that said soviet doctors prescribed whipping for depression. If only I could get my doc to prescribe regular visits to Mistress K.

If any of you are interested, Mistress Katja said that someone had, perhaps in jest, offered to pay for a session with her and me. If that appeals to you, let me know.

More Nettles

Mistress K asked me to write more about the nettles. First, the experience is a little odd. For example, when you get caned or paddled, the event and the pain are as nearly simultaneous as can be. Whack, it hurts. There’s some pain following, but it’s less. The nettles were exactly opposite. They barely brush your skin, you think "this isn’t too bad" and then the pain slowly increases. And increases and then doesn’t go away. It’s a terrible sensation. And it hurts like the dickens.

I hurt from the nettles from the afternoon until I went to bed. Alleve worked to reduce the pain by bedtime, but it still hurt. I should mentioned that my ass hurt the worst, and some of that pain may have been caused by my ass-presensitization caused by a little caning.
The next day, my whole body felt swollen. I mentioned in my earlier post that my chest was bigger. I’ve got little fat boy breasts, (Phil Mikelson B-cups) and yesterday they were substantially bigger. The pain had gone away, but I still had red spots and welts.

I started a thread on Max Fisch about this and I’m curious what other’s experience is.

Nettles

Well, fans, I’m out of chastity. I was locked up for more than sixty days with no release, but Mistress Katja and I agreed to take a sabbatical for the summer. And she said I wasn’t to be locked up unless she had the key, that chastity was not a game. I agree.

I saw her the other day. It was my birthday, and for a present she brought a bunch of nettles. I had read about stinging nettles (St. Keven rolled in Nettles to control his sexual desire) but I had never experienced them. So I got strokes for my birthday with nettles. Nothing the truly evil Mistress K has ever done has hurt so much. The pain was like a slow burn, first the stroke and then, seconds later, the burn. She whipped my whole body with them, clamped nettle leaves on my nipples, and even whipped my penis. Then, she had me get dressed, put some nettles around my balls, and had me run an errand. I could barely walk. My body hurt all day, and the next day I still had welts. My chest was swollen, making my breasts larger.

I have done more, and gone further, in my submissive nature in the last six months, than I did in a lifetime of fantasy. I’m pretty proud of it, and I’m truly grateful to Mistress Katja for taking me along this road.

Enema

For those of you who are counting, I’m about fifty seven days without release from my chastity belt. I saw ( the truly evil) Mistress Katja yesterday, and, while she let me out for a minute, I was back in without relief or release before I knew it.

My time with Mistress was overwhelming emotionally. A nice image – I was streched up on a St. Andrew’s cross (a ‘x’ shaped frame). The cross was facing a brick wall. Mistress was beating me. She would take her time, picking out a new whip, walking around behind me, swishing the whip around. As I faced forward, I could see her shadow, and the shadow of the whip on the the brick wall in front of me. The shadow was scary, as scary as the sound of the cane whizzing through the air. It was the first time she had caned me, and it really hurt.

For the first time in my life, I had an enema. In fact, I had several. These were what Mistress Katja called ‘punishment enema’s’. They weren’t very painful, but they were extremely, totally and effectively demoralizing. By the time they were done, I was in what’s called sub-space, and my only desire was to please Mistress Katja.

I wanted to show off my new bra and panties that I had bought at Victoria’s secret, and my reward was clothes pins on my nipples. While nipple torture is painful, its real benefit is that my nipples remain sore and erect for a day or so following.

Mistress Katja wants to see me more often. I had a comment here that I'm in another world than most. I admit that my behavior as cataloged on this blog is pretty deviant. But, I'm still excited by it, and I haven't hurt anyone, except myself. I'm getting old, and I don't want to spend my life in fantasy, when reality is available. Mistress Katja is young, creative, beautiful and keeps pushing my limits. At this point, though, she hasn't reached them.

Slavery essay

While looking at porn on the internet, I saw a movie clip of a woman, kneeling in a bathtub. Guys were pissing on her, you couldn’t see the men, just the tips of their penises. They were verbally abusing her as well, and at one point, when told to, she looked at the camera, and said "I’m a piece of shit." Thinking about this scene, it struck me as about as totally degrading as something could get, and yet her total submission turns me on.

The path that I am is, I’m afraid, similar. I was thinking this morning in bed about how much Mistress Katja controls my life. She obviously has the key to my penis. In addition to keeping me from masturbating, the fact that my penis is locked up, as well as my shaved legs, painted toenails and panties, has changed how I relate to women. When I meet women in social situations, I’m constrained, because I don’t want to have to explain that I’m someone else’s property, and that even if she was interested in me, I’d have to get the key before we could have sex.

Mistress Katja also controls a lot of my imaginary life too. My sexual obsession used to be relieved by masturbation, and because it was relieved, it had limits. Because all I can do now is fantasize, my obsession takes larger parts of my life (here I am writing at 5:30 in the morning), and has gone in different directions at her wish. Before I started this I would never have fantasized about men, and now, because she told me to, I do.

My ordinary day to day life is controlled as well. I’ve given up my favorite hobby, because I can’t do it with the chastity belt on. My budget is constrained by my relationship with her. And I think about her a lot.

So being a slave isn’t living in the basement and being dragged out for sex, it’s a gradual and total change, that leads to an acceptance of my submissiveness. Its expressed in changes in my life, and a willingness to abase myself. So if asked, or if told to, I would gladly get pissed on, drink the piss and allow a video of myself on the internet saying "I’m a piece of shit", but I’m Mistress Katja’s piece of shit, and that possession is the important part.

Pink nightgown

Over the weekend I got high speed internet, and being the guy that I am, I’ve spent a bunch of time looking at porn, especially movies. I mentioned yesterday that I’m fascinated by blowjob shots, facials and things like that, and that I imagine myself in the receiving role. Another spot is The Other World Kingdom. This is a place in the Czech Republic, in an old castle, which is run as a kingdom run by women. It’s a real place, and one can go there and visit, but as a submissive, you’d want to think twice, because it’s the real deal, with dungeons, and ponyboy play and all that stuff.

At any rate, I spent a couple bucks and subscribed to their movie site (www.OWK-cinema.com) and have had some thoughts. First, they have some amazing stuff. A guy caned until his ass bleeds. The guy I mentioned yesterday who had breasts. But more importantly, I was thinking about who I am. So on the internet, I see a guy pathetically crying as he’s whipped. I don’t think about what a doofus this guy is, I’m impressed with how beautiful and powerful the woman whipping him is. I want to be him, even if he is going farther than I’m currently willing to go in submission, and even if a part of my brain violently disagrees.

So here I am trying to keep my self-esteem, with my penis locked up, no key in sight. I’m sitting at my computer in my nice pink nightgown. I don’t think I have a choice.