Knives And Weapons

Last night I had a bad dream. I watched myself dissociate in our kitchen with a knife in my hand. I was completely out of myself, ran around and ranted about something I had forgotten. I put the knife to my throat and cut slightly into the skin until blood came out, but I did not feel a thing. I awoke with a scream, which merely ever happens. John was awake immediately and looked after me while I broke out in tears.

Only in the morning I realized it was a dream that has his root in my past. My father used to threaten me with knives, sometimes even with a gun. At some point, when I found out that he just got aroused by confronting me with a weapon, I started to like it and sometimes I still get a hard-on when we watch movies and a weapon is pressed against someone’s neck or temple in a certain way (slow, in control, kind of nice and cruel at the same time). I wondered whether it would hurt to get shot and when I found out that he was not about to kill me, I was sad. I thought it would have been an easy way out. I feared knives more as he could use them to stroke and to cut me. Sometimes he pretended he was going to castrate me or penetrate me with a knife to “deepen that hole”. He did not, but the mere mention of it made me go insane.

As I’m still very much drawn to Lord Shiva I thought about self-destruction once more. It is said that Lord Shiva dances the world and the Ego to an end and then rebuilds everything after His will. I wonder when this phase of rebuilding will ever take place for me. I always seem to make one step forward and then one step back, so that I stay right where I started. Am I more stable today than I was at age 21, when my father finally decided to get rid off me? I don’t know. I guess I have never talked about it. I had thought that I was precious to him and that he would never really attempt to kill me, let away all his severe tortures. I was surprised when he finally did and I remember the split of a second when I realized that this time he was real. We had rehearsed my death that often that I was stunned when it got through to me that he wanted to finish it. I had wished for death so often since my childhood but when I realized I was going to die, I did not want to. I was sad and angry, because I asked myself “that’s all to my life?!”. I had not experienced love, I had not lived on my own, I had not seen the ocean. When the lights faded, I was only sorry for me.

I’m still sorry for me nowadays. I grieve for the person I never was, I was never allowed to be. Perhaps I’d be as smart as my brother, have a normal job, earn money, be normal. Perhaps I would not like pain that much and need it as an anchor, which is really quite lunatic. Perhaps I’d have a normal relationship without the urge to get hurt, mentally and physically. I love John and I love our life, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder. Would I be normal? It’s easy to claim “normal is boring”, when you’re quite normal. It’s cynical when you’re broken like me.

What About Playing?

I have managed to make a hook on almost every task on that list John gave me, but still he refuses to play with me which gives me a hard time. I know I could end this all and tell him to take off the Birdlock, but somehow I do not want to. Why? I’ve come so far and in a strange way it satisfies me to experience I have the will-power to make it. What really hurts and tickles is that Love went to a glory hole twice this month. You put 20 € through that hole and then you get a blow job by someone you don’t even see. Later he told me everything about it and I was like melting, because I wished so much for this other guy had been me. But it reminds me of episodes of my life I don’t really like, because I made some money by having sex with strangers when I lived on the street. John said that I have to value that he is so moderate just having a little bit sex with others while his husband (me!) is busy. Ugh, yeah. And sure I like to know he’s satisfied and it increases my own desire to hear about it or witness it, but ugh!!! This evening the two of us will be visiting a gay sauna club again and I will watch him fucking someone else. What is that weird thing about, watching Love having another? I like it and I hate it. I love this man so much, I can’t put in in words. I’d do most everything for him and accept at least all he gives to me. I do trust him to do me no harm. I know he’s very caring, that Dad of mine. There are times when playing hurts. Just like in any good game.

Hurting Myself

One of the things on John’s list of tasks was playing with myself to amuse him (and of course with the Birdlock still on). That’s what I did yesterday because today Love wants to watch soccer on T.V.

It was not easy to think of ways to entertain Master, because I still feel ashamed for my body, even though he’s been trying to teach me to be proud of who I am for years now. I chose pegs, a huge dildo and a wooden spoon, as Master likes to give me some severe strokes with a spoon while I’m trying to keep upright and not to scroch the food. It all started very innocently, but at some point of the game I lost control. John did not mix in and just kept watching me. Perhaps it was a test, I don’t know, but I failed anyway. I hurt myself so bad that today my chest is blotched with bruises and I suffer from belly ache. I should not have done that to myself and today I feel bad about it. I just took the opportunity to hurt myself, packed as service to my Master. That’s got nothing to do with sub-pride or being a good boy or whatever. I still wonder whether BDSM is just a way of hurting myself over and over again and it’s so sick, because I usually like it. Later yesterday evening, when we were in bed, Love turned to me and whispered to me that he’d like to kiss my wounds, but that he won’t touch me before I’m done with the list. I know, but I only seldom feel that bad.

No BJs

Officially being married doesn’t prevent John from being cruel in a very polite way. Thank God for that :-) Yesterday he surprisingly suggested to visit a gay club known for his BDSMy attitude. My task: just watching. I wasn’t allowed any contact to others, be it beatings, be it sex. Not even sucking. Nothing. So I sat there and said no to every man who wanted to engage in a game, while Master was having fun with a young, hot stud. Ugh! Watching is still hurtful in a way, because these guys get what I’m craving for, even getting sucked off by Master. When we talk about it, John always asks “what about the fun watching you getting not what you want most if I’d suck you off?”. Yeah, right. He already proposed ending the BDSM-aspect of our relationship because then (and only then) he would be able to suck me off. Heck, no, I do not want that, but still I want to be given blowjobs. Love did some vicious things to the stud’s nipples with clothes-pegs and while he helped the young guy suffering, he watched me just sitting there, getting nervous and horny and not knowing where to look and where to put my hands. And I’m still wearing the Birdlock! Finally Master climaxed by fucking the guy, trickling his semen onto his belly. He kindly allowed me to clean the guy with my tongue. Thought I’d get a stroke LOL Well, and that was it. John drove us home, we took a shower and went to bed, John quite tired and I still horny like hell. Still 36 things to do from the list before Love will be playing again with me.

How Do You Know It’s Enough?

As I have stated before, I’m really into getting punished. At some point of the procedure I lose myself and indulge in the pain and I think I can take a lot. In former relationships my partners have brutalised me until I bled. Horrifying, but I liked it, even if the pain endured for a week or two. It was more of being “fuckmeat” than of being the person I am. Not to talk of love and respect. And I did not ask for love or respect, I just wanted the pain and the abuse. I was aware of the fact that by taking this serious form of injuring I repeated what my father did to me over and over again. He knew no mercy and I stopped begging for it as a child. Until today I almost never beg Master to stop or to slow down a bit and sometimes I am in the mood of wanting more, much, much more than what he dares to give to me. Of course it’s an act of cowardice to “use” Master to hurt myself and when I start to think about it, I feel bad. Is BDSM just a way of self-punishment all the time?

Sometimes when we’re powerplaying, I lose myself so much that I wish to be killed. It’s not that I want to die, really not, I love my life, I love John. But at some point my thoughts run wild and I think of being tortured to death and that somehow turns me on. I know it’s insane and I should not think that awful thing. I do not want to die in real terms, but giving in to Master’s power by offering my life…well, that’s a fantasy that really turns me on. My therapist says it’s no wonder I have these thoughts but that I should try to overcome them by building up self-respect. But let’s face it, who decides what’s best for us? I have experienced a lot of abuse and violence and I think it would be quite unlikely if I dreamt of bees and birds. And why should I change if Master does not even feel guilty about being the dominant and sadistic man he is? We both like it. But I am sure it’s good that John stays in charge, because I doubt whether I would ever be able to intervene if he went too far.

So, how do you know it’s enough? I think I have lost me sense for what would be enough by being pushed far over that line in early years. As a child I was convinced that one day my father would kill me and that my death was just a question of time. He had me fainting by strangling me and I liked it. I got a bit used to it and tried to stretch the moment when everything turned black LOL I liked it because it made the pain vanish and I hoped that I would not wake up again. But everytime I did and I was husky for a few days. It was that first, early experience of belonging that much to somebody who would even have the might and the right to kill me which left me a pervert I guess. I’m OK with it but sometimes I feel bad when I see John’s sad eyes. I’m sorry Love.

A List

We’re still into T&D a lot and John came about a new idea: he handed me a list of 50 things I am supposed to do before he’ll be playing again with me. I asked how he wanted to control whether I don’t masturbate and with a sweet devilish smile he clicked the Birdlock around me. Ugh! “Honey, if you don’t want to, I could still take it off”, he curred, but of course I want it and of course I will complete the list. For example it includes

  • making Yorkshire Pudding (Master knows I really hate to do this, it always ends up in a mess)
  • clean Master’s car
  • wearing a dildo made of glass for 24 hrs without interruption
  • reading an old Time magazine from beginning to end (guess that will be boring)
  • holding Master’s cock in my mouth while he’s watching football on T.V.
  • standing still with a bowl of milk in my hands for one hr
  • bowl down a bit of paperwork

I guess I won’t experience an orgasm before the end of July as his list is quite a bit long. July will be busy :)


Mich haben jetzt schon mehrere gefragt, ob es mich noch gibt, weil ich nicht mehr so oft schreibe :) John, mein Bruder, meine Schwägerin und ich waren spontan eine Woche Segeln. Ich habe früher immer gesagt, dass ich mich das nicht traue, aber jetzt habe ich mir das doch zugetraut und es war sehr schön. Wir sind von Flensburg aus gestartet und waren bis nach Sonderburg, immer in kleinen Tagesetappen. Wir haben dann immer einen Hafen angesteuert und da geschlafen. Einmal haben wir Fahrräder geliehen und haben uns die Gegend angeschaut und ein Picknick gemacht. Mein Bruder und ich haben ein gutes Verhältnis, aber wir haben schon lange nicht mehr so viel Zeit miteinander verbracht und geredet. Ich glaube, dass er mich jetzt anders sieht, wo ich mit John auch vor dem Gesetz zusammen bin. Mein Bruder war immer sehr kritisch bei meinen Beziehungen, weil er gewusst hat, dass ich dazu neige, mich benutzen zu lassen, also emotional, und dass ich gefährdet bin, wenn es Männer waren, die nicht so gute Absichten hatten. Er kannte John ja schon länger, aber er wusste nicht, dass es sein John ist, und als wird das rausgefunden hatten, war er beruhigter. Für uns alle war es wichtig, dass John und ich jetzt eine eingetragene Partnerschaft haben, weil es etwas anderes ist als vorher. Ich kann das nicht gut erklären, weil es nichts an meinen Gefühlen ändern sollte, aber das tut es doch. Ich fühle mich sicherer mit John. Ich hatte vorher sehr starke Verlustängste und jetzt ist es besser geworden. Man sollte das eigene Selbstwertgefühl nicht auf solche äußerlichen Sachen bauen, aber ich fühle mich jetzt sicherer und nicht mehr so beliebig. Durch die Lebenspartnerschaft bin ich noch fester ein Teil von John. Es ist schwer zu erklären. Ich fühle mich reifer.

In meinem Leben habe ich mich immer an den anderen Männern orientiert. Ich war immer schwach und habe das gemacht, was sie gesagt haben oder was sie gemacht haben. Es fing mit meinem Vater an und dann auf der Straße und dann hinterher mit John. Jetzt glaube ich, dass ich mehr bei mir selber bin und auch mal etwas riskiere. Ich bin jetzt eher bereit, etwas zu sagen, das John nicht gut findet. Wir haben auch über BDSM und den Haushalt geredet. Ich hätte gern gehabt, das John mir mehr hilft, aber er sagt, er will das nicht machen, aber er akzeptiert, wenn ich nicht mehr alles machen will. Jetzt kommt zweimal die Woche ein Reinemachfrau und hilft mit. Es ist komisch, die Kontrolle abzugeben, aber es macht mich nicht mehr verzweifelt, weil es ja etwas ist, das ich wollte. Ich trage immer noch nicht wieder den Birdlock, aber T&D geht auch ohne. Und ich genieße meine Sexualität ohne Verschluss. Sie ist ganz anders als mit und ich kann auch öfter die Führung übernehmen oder John signalisieren, dass ich mit ihm schlafen möchte. Er akzeptiert das auch alles. Ich bin so froh, dass er das tut, und dass es kein Problem ist, dass ich mich verändere und die Beziehung auch.

Wir haben viel geredet über John’s erste große Liebe, den Jungen von dem Internat, wo er war. Er denkt oft an ihn, weil es so ein schlimmes Ende genommen hat, und ich habe gesagt, er soll ihn anrufen, weil er ja weiß, wo er lebt. Sie haben direkt zwei Stunden telefoniert und wollen sich im Juli treffen. Der andere ist nicht mehr verheiratet, aber er war es, aber seine Frau hat rausbekommen, dass er schwul ist. John sagt, er ist froh, dass er nie eine Frau geheiratet hat, obwohl seine Eltern das gewollt hätten. Es hätte alle unglücklich gemacht.

Mein Bruder und ich haben im Urlaub auch viel über die Vergangenheit geredet und ich habe gemerkt, dass ich anders über unseren Vater reden kann. Er hat es nie akzeptiert, dass ich schwul bin, obwohl ich nicht weiß, wie er selber orientiert war. Mein Bruder will das nicht gern hören, aber ich denke, wenn ein Mann so oft Sex mit einem anderen Mann hat, dann kann er nicht hetero sein. Ich habe Mitleid gespürt, weil ich mich frage, ob er unglücklich war, als er geheiratet hat und als die Kinder gekommen sind.