Embracing Inferiority

By yesterday, I had gotten so desperate, I was completely upset when John told me he’d visit a cruising spot to get his satisfaction, while he supposed me to stay at home and iron. I could no longer hold back the tears and was reminded of what BDSM might be besides physical pain. I no longer doubt his love for me, but yesterday it just hurt to know he’s going to enjoy what I missed so much with someone else. I guess he was surprised by my outburst, and we ended up talking and cuddling for hours.

I thought I knew almost anything about his development to be dominant and sadistic, but yesterday I learnt some new things. I think both ways, being dominant/sadistic and being submissive/masochistic, are equally complex, and I seem to understand better now what’s exactly turning John on about being in charge (which feels strange, because I just don’t know these feelings by nature). To really grasp that my suffering turns him on that much seemed to change my own view. You know, it’s one thing to serve by acting in a certain way, and another to serve by accepting that nothing’s done to me in return. Because one part of me always wants to be teased and touched and well, fulfilled.

So, this morning, after some hours of sweet sleep, he released me from the Birdlock and granted me a thrifty milking while providing me with the opportunity to pleasure him extendedly. I did not cum, but concerning our conversation last night, I feel really satisfied today. And we talked about how I imagine my next orgasm, which surely will occur. Whenever.

After all, it’s a bit weird how being denied seems to constrict and widen my life simultaneously. Being kept in chastity makes me focus more and more on my cock, instead of carrying away my attention from it. Yeah, I guess it’s that “you crave most what you can’t get”-thing. I really feel being denied is an act of cruelty, and I feel a bit guilty about savouring it that much, but knowing that John enjoys being cruel to me, turns me on unbelievably. I guess that Birdlock is a constant turn on for both of us, only with John being able to experience as many orgasms as he wants to have and leaving me unfulfilled. The aspect of him having sex with others without me participating, is a bit tricky to me. On the one hand, I really like feeling like a…well, yes, an owned slave with no rights at all, being humiliated and kept busy while Master does whatever he likes to. On the other hand, there’s still this ticklish jealousy. I envy the studs he plays with, and I’m still afraid that he might get bored of me. But that again turns me on. It’s painful and kinky, that moment when John returns home, smelling of another guy and telling me he’s “fucked empty” and has no need for my service. Oh boy.

Being kept chaste mingles up with some other fantasies at the moment. I like to think of myself as John’s son, whose body had been modified with a tiny, useless and unable to squirt clit and with sensitive boobs. No longer a real boy, but more sort of a sissy. When these pictures first popped up, they felt like a kind of mulitation and therefore exciting. But the longer we indulge in these fantasies, the more usual they become, and I really begin to see myself as that sissy. I guess that’s because so many things are connected to sissies I regard as parts of my life, e.g. being inferiour, being not a real man and so on. To be honest, even if I like my cock, I’d love to have it shrinked to very little size, perhaps 1-2 cms. I have never been the one to penetrate my partners or to be sucked off, and I guess I just don’t have any use for a normal cock anymore. Some say being caged for a long time makes it shrink, and I guess I hope for that. It’s like accepting that male privilege does not count for me any longer, and embracing my inferiority as my personal way to fulfillment. Weird as it is. Uhm, yes. I guess that’s not neccessarily what my therapist was hoping our conversations would lead me to.

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