Yesterday, when Love and I came home from doing the shopping and he carved his teeth deep into a bought cupcake and most of the frosting stuck to his nose, I had to smile. I don’t know why, but to me, this was one of those moments when I feel deep gratefulness for that sweet man by my side. It’s not about being neat all the time, or about being cool or about sex, anyway. It’s just the certainty that HE is an essential part of your life and fills your life with love, joy and the knowledge that you belong to him.
In my Yoga class for men only I have met D. He’s straight, so no rumours, please :-) We have met for lunch several times and by and by he asked me about my relationship to John, but it was only this week I found out why: he’s submissive, too, but has never attempted to live out his affection. He asked me one thing I’ve been pondering on ever since: what is it like to live such a 24/7-BDSM-relationship? I thought it might be interesting to put it down for my blog.
So, what is it like? First of all, I think it’s not suitable for everyone who is into BDSM. It’s one thing to play in a settled space of time, it’s another to live it 24 hours a day, 7 days a week (24/7). For some people it’s attracting to dive into a safe sphere where they can live out their affections, but to know that they’ll be back into their “normal” every day lifes when the session is finished. They can let go in this safe playtime and then change back into their normal role. That’s different to when you’re doing it 24/7. There is no longer that difference between playtime and normal life. You extend your role until it fills the whole time and your whole life. This is only suitable for people who are REALLY into BDSM and for whom it is not only a fetish or so but a lifestyle. I’d say you’ll know whether or not this lifestyle suits you if you try it and do not miss anything. If you find yourself mourning about a loss of “normal life” or your “normal activities” or so, then a 24/7-relationship won’t probably fit your needs.
This leads to the second point. That 24/7-thing seems to fit you only if you’re into it by nature. If Master or sub is a role that allows you to let go and experience sexual arousal and relief, that’s fine, But you’ll only like a 24/7-relationship if you’re dominant or submisse by nature. It would take too much effort to keep up a role that does not correlate to who you are, to your core-personality. Again, in a BDSM set-up that’s only meant to last for a weekend or so, it’s okay to adjust to your role, but in everyday life it would be nerve-racking to try to keep up a role that does not fit your personality.
For John and me, as we are dominant and submissive by nature, it’s very natural to live like we do. I have to admit that I thought it was strange when John had the first flu during our new relationship and then was not that dominant, but needed comfort from me, but I have adjusted to that. Just because he’s dominant, he doesn’t have to hide his weakness. Perhaps a Dom who can show compassion and weakness is even more authentic and attractive than that kind of robot-Dom in BDSM-Movies.
A 24/7-relationship is not only about sex. To put it short: a day has 24 hours and most of the time you sleep, do your chores or just spend the time with your Love without fucking. If you’re into BDSM-sex, that’s fine, but then you won’t need a 24/7-relationship to fulfill your needs. For us, it’s about caring for each other in that “special” way, it’s about love, respect, understanding and allowing each other to be who he really is. There are a lot of prejudices about 24/7-relationships like I am not to have my own money or my own opinion or to contradict Love. That’s bullshit, at least in our marriage. John actually encourages me to contradict him and have my own money (and spend it). In fact, he’s the only partner that ever encouraged me to develop, to overcome fears and traumas and do things that do me well like Yoga, meeting friends and so on.
Where’s then the difference to a normal, not-BDSMy relationship? I guess you could say we have a classical, somehow vintage marriage. I’m the guy to help John out of his jacket, bring his slippers and a cup of tea, asking him how his day was, serving him in any way to please him. Again, if you’re not into that, it won’t please you but make you feel exploited and subdued. To me, it’s heaven.
Yesterday, Love was a bit tired. He had had very much work to do in the past weeks and even though I tried my best to help him recreate, he was just wiped out. I made something special for dinner yesterday and afterwards John wanted to watch T.V., drink a glass of wine and smoke a cigar. He is not a regular smoker, but every now and then he enjoys a cigar. When he sat there, I tried to focus on the T.V., but I failed. He’s so damn sexy when he’s smoking. It’s not neccesarily that I think about having passive oral sex with him, but it’s just his behaviour and his gestures. Of course I could not hide my thoughts and he saw my expression, but he did not say anything. He had me refill his glass and pretended not to witness my increasing interest in him. A thought came up in my mind. “Uhm, Sir, sorry for interrupting, but I have just thought about a thing I saw on the web.” He allowed me to tell him. I had seen a Dom putting the ashes from his cigarette into his sub’s hands. “Oh come on, that’s damn boring”, John delivered his judgement. He waited a moment, then added “It’d be more interesting to put the ashes right into your mouth. Might be you’ll then learn to keep it shut while I watch T.V.”. Ugh, yes, might be. Then again, he just kept smoking and pretending not to literally hear my question whether or not I should get down on my knees next to him and open my mouth.
See, with cigars and cigarettes I have my difficulties. My father used to smoke and he stubbed out his ashes on my skin. I somehow got used to it, but of course it hurt every single time. It was meant to hurt. He threatened me by telling me he could put a lit cigarette in my eye and he even did that to my tongue, my nipples and my genitals. I hated his smell after smoke and sweat. But then again, Julian was a smoker, too, and I don’t know why, but he smelled and tasted good, some kind of manly and strong. I myself do not smoke. I have tried it, but I did not like it. It did no good to my lungs and I did not like the taste and the way my skin and clothes smelled afterwards. All in all, smoking is a bit of a double-edged sword for me.
When John suggested, he might put his ashes right into my mouth, he could be sure I felt pleasure and a bit of fear at the same time. Pleasure due to my submissive affection and fear because of my past. And by not replying to me, he stretched my exertion. He took a few more sips from his wine, then decided “Come here and take it”. I knelt before him, while he opened his zipper and put his cock into my mouth. I wanted to work on him, but he told me to just keep still, while he kept smoking, drinking wine and watching T.V. That’s hard, you know. I fancy his cock and I fancy giving him BJs, and feeling him inside my mouth without moving is demanding. A bit later, Love finished his cigar, and when the broadcast was over, he just kept still and did nothing. The worst part of being submissive. I moved my tongue a bit to tease him. Immediately he slapped my cheek. “Didn’t I tell you to keep still?” I nodded and simultaneously felt growing arousal. I like being hit in the face. I think it’s the ultimate degradation.
John took the newspapers and began reading. My jaws started to hurt. Keeping still in this position is like the essence of being a sub. Your knees hurt, your jaws hurt, your cock is pulsing against your pants, you got your Master deep inside of you, but he keeps you from all the pleasurable things you could do. Love took his time finishing the newpapers and his glass of wine, then looked at me and began caressing my face which was very exciting. “You’re such a poor guy, waiting there, aren’t you?” He smiled. “I’m sure you’d like to suck me off?” I nodded while he kept stroking me. He smiled again. “I’m sorry, son, not today”. He let his cock slip out of my mouth and took a streak of my hair to wipe it dry. I wanted to sit up, but he told me to stay and watch, while he began masturbating. I know it’s weird, but being kept from pleasing him hurts. Several times he put his cock near my mouth, only to take it back again. When he was near to the peak he asked me “You want to eat it?”. Of course I wanted! But then the laughed and took the ashtray. He shot his full wad on the ashes. I felt sad and rejected, but somehow liked it. After he had cum, he allowed me to lick his cock clean and then again keep it in my mouth.
We sat there for a while and when John had calmed down a bit, he again began stroking my hair and face. “Ok, son, make it hard again”. I looked up and he smiled lovingly. I did as he told me. To me, it’s just beautiful to pleasure my Love. When he had a stiffy, he told me to stop and straighten up. When I did, he handed the ashtray to me. “Lick it up and keep it in your mouth. Don’t dare swallowing a drop! Don’t spill!”. I did as he told me and as soon as my tongue hit the ashes, I asked myself whether that really was a good idea, because it tasted quite awful. Love jockeyed me to the couch, kneeling. He lowered my pants and found my hard dick, but did not pay any attention to it. When he slid into me, I wanted to sigh in relief, but I could only moan quietly due to the mixture of ashes and his cum inside my mouth.
He bagan pounding me, but I felt like I could not enjoy it to the max because I could not open my mouth and utter my excitement. After a while, my mouth was full because of the splittle I could not swallow, but Love just kept fucking me, keeping me from full pleasure. When he had cum, he told me to keep kneeling, putting his empty wine-glass under me and catching all of his cum. Then he held the glass under my mouth and told me to spit everything I had collected in my mouth into the glass. It was not an eye candy. “Help yourself”, he demanded and handed the jar to me. “Don’t waste a drop”. I did as he told me and masturbated until I climaxed, then carefully collected my sap into the glass. “Well done”. He put it aside, pretending not to recognize my questioning face. I crawled up inside his arms and we lay there for a whole while. I had begun to think that John had forgotten about the glass, when he said “It’s bedtime”, but when I wanted to get up, he held me back. “Wait, precious. You’ve fogotten the dishes”. He handed to glass to me. “Clean it up”.
Ugh! Warm juices are one thing, but chilled juices are another! I have no other word to describe it: pestilent! I tried my best to swallow it down quickly, but of course a lot remained inside the glass. John had me lick it all clean, the remains by helping myself with my fingers. When I was finished and he saw my face, he broke out in laughter. “Well, they’re true: smoking may cause damage to your health!”. Yeah.
Last weekend, L was here again with us, and we had such a fun time. When he arrived by train on friday afternoon, John still had a bit of work to do so that I fetched him from the station. We went home, had a tea together and talked a bit. We both felt some kind of anxiety as we have not been together without John yet. We had settled on the two ends of the couch and tried not to be too near to each other, until L addressed it. He asked whether I’d feel uncomfortable being alone with him, and I replied that I’m unsure about what would be ok with John and what not. L softly took my hand, then we kissed, but decided to ask John about it.
Shortly after Love returned home we began cooking together, but John felt we had something to talk about. After we had finished the meal, he wanted to know about it and was surprised to find we’re so insecure. He assured us that he’s ok with the both of us kissing, cuddling or doing even more when he’s not around. “Don’t be shy, guys”. For me, this is all new, and I thought John would be the last man I’d ever love. I had not expected our relationship to be capable of a third man, and I am still surprised about it. But I like it anyway.
We tried to spend the evening watching a movie, but we could not keep our hands off each other. L is not into BDSM, but it seems John wants to show him how nice it is to have a sub around. He made me kneel before him and just holding his cock in my mouth while they were kissing and smooching and I guess he liked it, when Love decided I’d not be allowed to climax that evening. Well, I liked it, too.
On Saturday, we stayed in bed until noon, then did the shopping together. John suggested we could go to the cinema, but there was no movie of interest, so we had dinner in a restaurant and then had a walk through town. Later at home both of them dominated me, which really turned me on. It’s a bit embarrasing to hear your Dom tell someone you really like and want to be liked from what you’re into, like “oh yes, he freaks out getting fucked by a small toy” or “sure he likes drinking piss, don’t ya, honey?”. But hell, yes, it also turned me on LOL
L had to leave on Sunday afternoon and as usual Love and I felt a bit deserted when the train had left. John invited me to a cup of tea in a café at the station and I felt he was thoughtful. When we sat in his car, he said “I don’t know how to cope with that”. I knew he spoke of the permanent distance between us. The only thing I could say was that perhaps it might get better when it’s no longer that new for all of us, when we’re getting more used to it. When seperation becomes normality. The words were just out, when I already regretted them. John looked very sad. I know, for him it must be unlikely harder than for me, because he had missed L almost his whole life through. “See, at the moment I can’t think of any solution. You’re both bound to your jobs, you both can’t leave”, I told him and he nodded. That was the kick-off for a long talk about what might be in the future, given that we stay together and that our feelings for each other deepen. At the moment, I can’t imagine moving elsewhere. My family lives here, my friends and work are here, but at least I guess John means more to me than all of that. I don’t know if I could take moving abroad, be it Switzerland or England. At the moment these thoughts overcharge me. It’s good we don’t have to decide right now. It’ll need time to grow, and that’s what I told John, too. I hope he’ll be ok with it.
In two weeks, the two guys will meet in a big city in Austria, where L has to go for his job, but I’ll stay at home because of work. It’s ok, although I’ll miss them. But perhaps it’s good if they can spend some time together alone, talk about their past and just trying to find a bit of peace. Anyway, L and I have decided to talk more often to each other on the phone.
The past two weeks have been extraordinarily busy. Love had to work 16 to 18 hrs daily to finish a job only he could handle. When he came home, he was tired and hungry like a wolf. Almost every day I prepared steaks for dinner and six scrambled eggs for breakfast, but Love was so busy that he had no time to eat the lunch I prepared for him as well. When he returned home, we ate in silence, then he took a shower, slumped in his armchair, watched T.V. for 20 minutes and then went to bed, that poor sweet husband of mine. I guess that’s the deal with his job: there are times he can come home in the early afternoon or take a few days off, and then again there are times like these when John’s job is stressful like hell. I adore him for his ability to handle stress.
So, in the past two weeks I had a lot of time for myself and went to Yoga more often. In the past few months I have not written about Yoga, because I did not know what to say about it. I have adjusted to it and I still like it. I like my teacher and I like our new group which only consists of men. After each lesson we sit around, drink that Yogi tea (I only take a few sips, because it causes heartburn) and talk. I have come out as gay to them and they are ok with it. When we’re talking about our relationships, I tend to think that some things the other men experience are equal to what I have with John, but in other respects it’s quite different. I guess men don’t have to argue about the neccessity of shaving (and stubbles in the sink) or so :-) I’m still not comfortable with one term my Yoga teacher uses to describe men: warrior. I don’t mind if it’s a warrior of light or a normal warrior, I fail to see myself as warrior anyway and all the way. Sure I have learned to fight in some aspects, but the thought of me as a warrior is ridiculous. I’m ok with it. I guess John is sort of my warrior and maybe I’m a coward because I like to hide behind his back. But that’s where I belong.
W and I have met often to drink tea, talk about St. Mary, Lady Parvati and the darker aspects of Lord Shiva and Papa Legba. W says that the time has come to focus on those darker aspects and I try to do so. One of my darker aspects is undoubtfully my pride and my greed.
Sometimes I’m too tired to sleep. For two weeks now I have a very light sleep and find it difficult to relax. When I lay there in the dark and listen to John’s breathing, thoughts and memories come up. I think about the time we met, back in May 2011. I was so insecure about him although my feelings for him were quite clear from the beginning. I think about Julian with whom I was together when I lived on the street. We had only little, but I was happy. I had just escaped my father and Julian never asked me about him. So did John. They just accepted that something had happened to me. John was the first partner I talked to about it that openly. I needed time to build up trust.
I wonder how I would be today if my father had not taken his own life and I still lived on the street. Would I still drink alcohol, sell my body for money? When my brother found me on the street and said our father was dead, it felt like falling into a bottomless black hole. I did not know what that was supposed to mean. The only life I knew was under his threat. It was like I was allowed to breathe freely for the first time in my life, but I was afraid of that freedom. When my brother asked me to come with him, I was doubtful. I was too anxious to trust him, too anxious to accept his help. When he bought me new clothes and had me have my hair cut, it felt like slipping into a new skin. Being someone I had never been before and I did not know. I remember his looks. Kind of sad, disappointed and compassionate. Later he admitted he often asked himself how I would be if our father had not done what he did. We both did not know how damaged I really was.
I remember sleeping in his guestroom, resting on the soft bed and then settling over to the floor. When they found me, they got sad, and so I tried to sleep in the bed. I thought it would swallow me. It was not long until I went to the mental hospital.
W und ich machen sehr viel zusammen in letzter Zeit. Wir machen zusammen Puja oder wir machen spirituelle Reisen (man reist nicht wirklich weg, man liegt auf dem Boden und reist in Gedanken). Wir opfern auch gemeinsam. Jesus und Lord Shiva mögen beide Reis, aber sonst sind sie eher ganz anders. W sagt, Jesus ist wie Buddha ein Erleuchteter, und er hat sich von der rohen männlichen Energie abgewandt. Er hat ja gesagt, man soll noch die andere Wange hinhalten, und ich glaube, das würde Lord Shiva eher nicht tun.
Gestern Abend hat W mich besucht. Wir haben erst alle zusammen gegessen und dann ist John ins Kino gegangen und W und ich haben Puja gemacht. Ich hatte nachmittags Kugeln aus Reismehl, Mandeln, Rosenwasser und Zucker gemacht, die wir geopfert haben. Wir haben geräuchert mit Ws Mischungen und W hat auf seiner kleinen Trommel gespielt. Ich bin dabei gereist. Ich möchte davon schreiben.
Ich habe einen Ort gefunden, wo ich mich wohl fühle. Es ist ein Ufer an einem schnell fließenden Fluss. Da sind große Steine, wo man sitzen kann, aber auch Bäume und eine Höhle, die etwas versteckt ist. Ich gehe in Gedanken an diesen Ort und wenn ich reisen will, gehe ich vielleicht in die Höhle rein oder ich schwimme in dem Strom. Gestern bin ich in die Höhle gegangen. Es ist immer anders. Ich ging einen langen Gang entlang, die Wände waren warm und es roch nach Erde. Irgendwann kam ich auf ein Feuer zu. Daran sass Lord Shiva. Er hat mich aufgefordert, mich zu ihm zu setzen und in das Feuer zu sehen. Ich weiß, dass auch ein Tier da war. In letzter Zeit weiß ich immer, dass ein Tier da ist, aber ich kann es nicht richtig ansehen. Manchmal sieht es aus wie eine Großkatze, manchmal wie ein Hund oder ein Wolf und manchmal wie alles gemischt. Als ich in das Feuer sah, habe ich darin Formen gesehen, die sich veränderten und dann zu einer Art Puppenaufführung wurden. Sie haben etwas nachgespielt, das ich erlebt habe. Es hat mich sehr aufgewühlt und ich habe gezittert. Ich habe Lord Shiva gefragt, warum er mir das zeigt, und er hat gesagt, damit ich aufhöre, mich zu fürchten. Ich habe ihn gefragt, ob er mir sagen kann, wie ich das schaffen soll, und er hat nur gesagt, ich soll weiter zusehen.
Es war eine Szene mit meinem Vater. Er hatte so unberechenbare Wutanfälle. Manchmal sass ich nur da und habe nichts gemacht und es hat ihn schon provoziert, so dass er mich geschlagen hat. Er hat mir oft auf den Kopf geschlagen und die Flammen spielten das nach. Immer, wenn ich daran denke, fühle ich mich behindert und dumm. Vielleicht hat er damit etwas kaputt gemacht in meinem Kopf. Ich weiß, dass ich nicht so funktioniere wie andere. Es ist ironisch, aber wenn ich Englisch rede, dann fällt es nicht so auf. Wenn ich deutsch rede, dann komme ich mir unbeholfen vor und die Worte fallen durch mich durch wie in einem Sieb. Ich habe versucht, für Lord Shiva Gedichte zu schreiben und auf Deutsch fällt es mir schwer. Auf Englisch geht es leichter, dabei ist das nicht meine Muttersprache. Es fühlt sich natürlicher an. Die Flammen haben gezeigt, dass ich den Arm hebe und den Schlag abwehre. Ich habe das ja versucht, habe ich gesagt, aber es ging nicht. Es spielt keine Rolle, sagte Lord Shiva, ob das früher ging, weil es geht heute. Er hat getan, was er gemacht hat, aber Du kannst Dich dagegen entscheiden, dass Du weiter derjenige bist, auf dem er rumprügelt.
W und ich haben schon öfter solche Sachen angereist, die früher passiert sind. Ich habe dabei oft einen Superheldenanzug angehabt. Gestern nicht. Es war auch anders, weil es wie eine Vorstellung war und nichts, woran ich teilnahm. Ich glaube, es soll mir sagen, dass Opfersein eine Haltung ist, die von innen kommt. Man ist zwar in dem Moment das Opfer, wo man Schläge kassiert, aber man kann sich später dagegen entscheiden, sich immer weiter als Opfer zu sehen. Lord Shiva hat mich schon oft aufgefordert, nicht mehr das Opfer zu sein, sondern Stärke zu entwickeln. Oder nein, meine Stärke, die ich schon habe, zu entdecken und anzunehmen.
Später sass ich an dem Fluss und schaute in das Wasser. Es war ganz friedlich. Als ich wieder zurück war, haben W und ich darüber geredet und Reiskugeln gegessen und geopfert als Dank. Für mich ist es immer noch schwer, zu akzeptieren, dass es diese Reisen gibt und dass Lord Shiva da wirklich mit mir spricht. Ich hoffe, ich bin nicht verrückt :) W sagt, es ist ganz normal, auf diese Art mit Göttern zu reden, und Jesus und Shango (und andere) reden auch mit ihm, manchmal sogar auf der Arbeit.
W ist jetzt ein paar Wochen mit M zusammen und es freut mich für sie. M ist sehr nett. Er ist Koch!