Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Writing on the wall






Gather around me


Oh mourners of dead cows


Embodiments of hellish air


And so many more




Hear the warning of this man


Old and antique by current standards


But still alive with open eyes


As you close yours amongst the flock




You brand yourself in ancient symbols


Worshiping gods long gone


From those that fight for victory


Or worship the sun, the earth or the sea




I do not mind that you do it


But that you do it without care


And lose yourself in the process


Exchanging life for little things




Life is made of time


And time wasted to make money


That you use to dress yourself


In so many pretty things




The sacrifice that you offer


To become what you are not


Is not wasted, be sure of that


As it is from belief that they live




You make magic from the words


That you use to brand yourself


A bike to become a biker


A pig, a dog and so many more




But that magic has a price


That is not to be discarded


It is not just what is on the tag


That you pay at the checkout




You lose yourself and your identity


Without even knowing why


That you cling yourself to that shape


Color, smell, texture or taste




The more you give, the more they live


Until they rule over your life


On temples of images and sounds


Made by their most faithful devotees




You may ride the wave like all the rest


But open your eyes as you do


As it can grow beyond control


And damn yourself for ever more




Live free or in chains


Who am I to disagree


I also chain body and soul


But only bind those that are free




Do you prefer to tie yourself


To someone live and with purpose


Or lose purpose on things to be


That is what I want to see




So don't play dumb as you have been warned


Of what will come to be


I am not here to make your choices


I am here to set you free







Fashion and fetish





Some time ago I made this article for a Portuguese magazine where I was asked to write about bdsm to the general public


Some adjustments were made in terms of the translation to fit this audience and complement it a bit



And now, a bit of history



The term fetish was born for the word "feitiço" (witchcraft in English)


It is something that binds and dazzles the human mind, thanks to the supernatural powers that it holds



There are those who are immune to its charms, but no one is indifferent to the impact they have over those that submit to them



The power that fetish holds over people is diverse and relative, that go from despise and complete ignorance up to the full dependency on it


One of the biggest engines of fetish is fashion, that dream making machine that works transforming images, colors and bodies into something that appeals to the buying of items that have little practical usage for our day-to-day life



The term fashion can be applied to many things, such as clothing, shoes, make-up, furniture, amongst so many things, being divided by styles and epochs by many historians


It can be used in the most generic sense as the description of the pattern that gave it origin ("it is fashion to hear hats") as the prevalent pattern in a given moment in time ("it is the fashion")




Fashion and fetish have always been connected, being one the most presentable and socially accepted face of the other


Only when the object becomes something connected to sexuality does it stop being in society's good graces and becomes a perversion




I give out a simple example that will make it easy to connect both terms



Let us imagine a pair of red shoes


They are born from the imagination of a stylist from Prada


They are drawn red, with round lines and high heel as high as possibly usable by a human being


They are not drawn for it's practicality on the work environment, but as an object that belong in this season's catalog, for one specific theme



Within this theme, a scenery is made where this object is presented


A model and personality selected that fit in the mind of the stylist that thought of it



And the parade begins




Hundreds of flashes and cameras light up the set



Scene, model and shoes become one and the dream is born




A woman sees them on a magazine cover



She sees the ensemble and imagines the moment recorded in the photo


Walking through the sterile passerelle, watched by a million eyes




Many people would be afraid of that moment, of facing the world capable of undressing them with a single look


But the one playing the part stands firm on her own two feet, projecting confidence, along with the idea that was on the mind of the one that drew it, presented on the empty canvas, as requested


A woman in control, indifferent to those who look at her and desired because of it



A connection is made between the woman that parades and the woman that sees the photo as the desire to become one is planted in fertile land


And for that to happen a dress is needed or, if little money is left to buy it, then at least a pair of shoes



She knows that the shoes are expensive and out of reach of all the rest


Nevertheless if she saves enough over a couple of months they can be hers and that ethereal connection to the picture will be a physical one with the possession of the object


With the correct amount of money in her matching bag, she heads off to the boutique


Sitting on a velvet chair, she awaits for her desire to brought


A man leans down, holding a small paper box


From within, softly wrapped in silky paper comes a pair of red shoes


She feels the subtle smell emanating from the set and in that moment she knows they will be hers


Two hands place the shoe on her feet and the extasy of that relationship hits her mind



She raises herself and walks on them


Her walk changed as she placed them on as the posture of her entire body had to adapt for her to be able to wear it



A veil was placed with a pair of shoes


The dream became reality
 


Many eyes will lower themselves to admire her shoes and they will identify them as present in the same photo that she saw



The desire that those strange eyes set on the photo will now stumble upon her every time she wears them



That power of attraction is hers now




Up to this point we are within what the world of fashion offers




The dark side begins when that same image is taken to the other extreme


The same velvet chair, but a naked body sits on in


An equally naked man puts that same shoe on her feet, sexually aroused as he does it


She knows the power those shoes hold over that who submits


And power given by him to the shoes are now for her use and abuse



And that means that he is hers now


He will do anything she wants in exchange for her to become the user of the shoes of his fantasy




And she enjoys feeling that power


The power to put men under her feet...


Literally



Everyone of us ends up, one way or another, to give power to objects and create our own fetishes, being those sexual or not


That pair of sneakers used to beat the track record


The gold wire with the coin for luck


The special pen to write the contract of a lifetime.



There are those who don't enjoy this kind of pagan practice that people exhibit



Nevertheless, we all need something to hold on to in our moment of need or something to motivate us in playing a specific part, born from something we saw or experienced in our past that has marked us permanently



In this world full of rights and wrongs, we should have the freedom to be what we want


If you like to wear red high heel shoes, to dress up in leather pants, to wear a chain on your neck or a cowboy hat in your head it does not matter, as long as that object does not stand in the way of what you want to do



But always remember the distinction between living and living dependent of something



To do sex with a cowboy hat may be fun as a gimmick, but to only do it with the cowboy hat can limit you in more ways than you can imagine



To be free means to have options, so don't limit yourself




Because the most important thing is to live


And be happy







Monday, July 24, 2017

A visit to the doctor






I have an itch that I cannot scratch


That keeps me awake throughout the night


If I try to get it out


It hides too deep for me to find




Perhaps by candle light with my hands bound in prayer ?




I searched heaven and earth for an answer


Books and scriptures of all religions known


But their words could not even give me comfort


Left with this ailment to face alone




Or so I thought




An obscure doctor told me a way


Unorthodox, but trialed and tested


By many that came before


On the road that I have to follow




The medicine has been prescribed




Bare flesh needs to be exposed


To probe and test where it may hide


Perseverance may be needed


But my sickness has a cure




Or at least hope




All I require is skin and to be bold


So I have to strip myself of all I hold


And prepare myself to do what I am told


As the body needs to feel its touch




And it begins




Skin against skin


Arms stretched and hands closed


Ass straight up and back exposed


The wind whistles in the air




Am I too weak for this to bear ?




Strange words come out of my mouth


Some full sentences or merely sound


But they all have a deeper meaning


Not for you but for me




And what is left you may ask




White becomes red


Pristine becomes tainted


Illusions touch reality


Harsh and strong




But always true




The will to fight goes away


As rain clouds my tired eyes


And I feel a child again


Helpless and unprotected




But safely secured by a strong embrace




I let go of everything


And peace returns to my aching heart


As the itch is now gone


Nowhere to be found




The work is done




I thank the good doctor for this gift


The remedy bitter and hard to swallow


That marked my body and left me hollow


But one I needed most of all




And my cure you may ask




He said a chain on my neck could do it


With a strong hand to pull it


But for now this will suffice


Or maybe it shouldn't




I await for next itch


Anxiously








What, why, where, how





Over the many years that I have been a Master, I have traveled through the minds of many slaves


Probing, exploring and experimenting



The first thing that I learned is that this game is not a "one size fits all", or even a "one size fits most"


Every slave is different and what makes one tick, will make another freeze or run away



As such you have probably noticed if you read the blog up to this post, there are variations in the way themes are presented, ranging from the softest kink to the extreme bdsm



You may ask where do I stand in this


I could tell you that I stay in the middle, but I have to say that I have gone through the full range within the limits I have set




My motivation is the challenge that you may offer me in turning you into what I want as a slave, more than just a score board of "done this, done that"



If I still played that way, I would have already quit this Game, as my board has no more items to add



There is a saying that says that if you only have a hammer, every problem is a nail



Luckily my repertoire is bigger than "just a hammer" in my way of submitting you




But what should be used to bend you into submission, you may ask


If I can bend you with a feather, I will use it


If I can use a rope for that purpose, I will use it


If I have to rip the clothes off your body and use my full strength to pin you to the cold floor to make you obey me, I will do it



It comes from experience to know how much is enough


What can work without going beyond what you can take



Sometimes it may seem too soft



But if your knees still shake and your mind still works in overdrive exploring every emotion that flowed


Then my goal was achieved



This game is not about returning home bruised and battered, the number of times you were fucked or the amount of pain you were able to withstand


It is about the way you let yourself go in my hands, the way you are able to extract yourself from your surroundings to focus on me and on my satisfaction



Only then will you be able to feel pleasure from playing it




A slave exists to serve


And everything you feel should be for that purpose


Expose yourself as far as you are able to take it and I will be pleased by your service


Be that to a feather tickling your feet, a drop of wax sliding through your ribs, a jolt of electricity in your balls or my cock fucking your ass



It does not matter


As long as you take it for me




So come with the will to be changed and I will change you


And give purpose to what you want to feel







Tuesday, July 4, 2017

Rocking the cage





While some slaves desire the longing of ownership and the peacefulness that comes from a set of chains and orders to follow, others long for the hardness of the cold floor, the set of ropes scrapping and bruising the flesh, the feeling of the sweat rolling from head to toe, in a situation where there are no safe words



All that remains is endurance until the end, when it comes



For those that seek the hottest of fires, that burn the feet of those who walk on it, I leave a very special contract, only given under special request






Letter of Challenge





I, (masochist), offer myself, shackled and chained, in both body and mind, to be used and abused to my Master's delight



I seek nothing for me, except the pleasure of service and the pain, torture and humiliation under your rule



From my mouth will only come compliance to your order or sounds of the pain I feel under your punishment



I discard all comforts


Food, sleep, clothing will come when you feel I deserve it



I am happy for drinking my Master's sweat, filling my mouth with my Master's cock, sleeping at your feet like the dog I am and wearing your chains over my naked body on the cold floor



If I am cold, I will accept your whip to warm my flesh



If I am hot, I will accept the bathing you give me



My rest will come either in the cage where I belong or next to my Master's body when my mind has been broken and I have no more covers under which to hide myself



I relinquish my rights in exchange for the sweat, screams, cries and tears that you will extract from me



All that I can ask is that I can return in one piece, with no permanent damage or disease



If broken, I am yours forever




The slave








if




you are furry, I can scrape you smooth



you are weak, I can make you strong



you are strong, I can make you weak



you are fat, I can make you thin



you are thin, I can make you fat



you don't know, I can teach you



you don't know yourself, I can teach you



you don't know me, I can teach you





and make you grow with that knowledge



in due time





but whatever change may come, I will not change what came before



I will only change what comes after





your past made what you are now



and made you come to accept the choice I present





if I erase it from your mind



where is the smile that you will show, with nothing to compare from before




your past is what makes you precious



if it is lost, you will no longer be you



just a mindless beast, guided by pain and pleasure



with no understanding of why it became that way



hiding deep within the desire to escape



only to one day find that what you are running from



is in fact what it always longed to have





so keep that mind of yours in one piece



in there exists a place for me to stay



to caress, poke and tease your thoughts in your moments of rest




to show you why you long for my chain on your neck