Journals and blogs discussion

Even though I’ve had kinky thoughts since I was very young, my first real encounter with BDSM (understanding what these feelings were) occurred when I was 18. At that time, I stumbled upon some modest yet alluring Femdom photos online (a place known as the San Fransisco Dungeon, which is featured in the stories section of my website. I scoured the internet and absorbed as much information as possible. Afraid someone would catch me browsing, I rushed through it all, but I distinctly remember stopping at one image featuring a powerful lady holding a bullwhip.

I started looking for more info on the subject, but living in such a narrow-minded, straight-laced environment made finding like-minded people difficult. I even felt guilty and ashamed about being attracted to this unusual lifestyle. Like everything else in my life, I adopted a “try it once” attitude: I set up a profile and sought out a Domme to share these new emotions with. I chatted with several women online, discussed our feelings in chat rooms, and played virtually. Eventually, I grew tired of the search and decided to talk things over with my girlfriend at the time. It turned out she was interested too, so we began playing lightly because our circumstances didn’t allow for full-time submission.

I look back on that period fondly, although something felt off despite enjoying the submissive side of it all. The issue came to a head when I was asked to serve at a party. Everything went smoothly until I had to give an oral sex to what must have been the grossest man I’d ever met (he weighed 19 stone and smelled strongly of body odor). I said no, but next thing I knew, there was a knife held to my throat. The memory of that incident is still difficult for me to process. I’m not entirely sure how many times or by whom I was raped, but I ended up bound in a ditch, left as if dead.

As you can imagine, this experience left me with numerous emotional scars; it has been the toughest challenge I’ve ever faced. At first, I tried to conceal it, pretending to discuss it with close friends and even inventing others who were supposedly there during that time. My partner left, everyone drifted away from me, and I withdrew into myself. Eventually, I sought counseling and still attend regular therapy sessions, particularly around the anniversary of that event. Initially, I continued to have fantasies about domination, but I couldn’t bear losing control again, so my fantasies evolved.

Not knowing exactly what I wanted, I started attending play parties and munches mainly for socializing, with no interest in committing to anyone—until Sharon appeared and asked for a spanking. That’s when I discovered this new side of myself. At first, it was about never losing control… never being vulnerable again and never suffering abuse once more. Looking back now, it stemmed from anger as much as sexual desire; I built up a mental wall and effectively suppressed my submissive nature. Sharon died in a car crash, leaving me alone again. After that loss, I completely broke down. I ruined everything in my life and even attempted suicide.

Years later, I’ve found the perfect partner—someone who accepts me for who I am and is always there when needed, regardless of whether she’s across the world. She means everything to me; I know I’m quite clingy, but she is the pillar I lean on during tough times, the lover I need to love and be loved by, and the Mistress I crave to use and abuse me.

I used to describe myself as bisexual… but the idea of a man being close to me repulses me and triggers numerous flashbacks. I can lose control, but trust is paramount in my life. If that trust wavers, things get chaotic for everyone around me.

What a harrowing tale. It's wonderful to see how things eventually worked out for you. You're incredibly lucky as a sissy to have Lady Kismet as your Mistress. It must have taken considerable courage to share your experiences, especially by posting them publicly. Kris x

Wow, what a story! Slave J, my heart goes out to you. The world can be such a scary place. Thank goodness there's a haven like this where we all feel secure. Thanks go to Mistress Watchful and her pet!

*I apologize for what happened to you at the party, Jo. Clearly, that experience left a mark. However, don't let it define your identity. Being submissive doesn't mean being a victim. Trust is such a personal and precious gift when given to someone. I hope that sharing your story shows the level of trust you're placing in us here. Thank you for opening up.*

**after the event pt1** I suppressed my submissive side by creating a new persona (Cyclonus). He was never meant to be used, exploited, abused, and left for dead. Now I follow Wicca principles and live by the rule of three; thus, hurting anyone while acting as a Dom is very difficult for me, occurring only when I know they truly need it. I cherished every moment of my newfound power—well, you would too if you could charge £400 an evening to dominate someone. However, topping only men with man boobs wasn't enjoyable, especially since certain odors triggered flashbacks. That's why I quit professional dominating; the pay was excellent, but because all my clients were male, it caused me too much pain. Just as I decided to step down (for the first time), Sharon announced she was pregnant. We were overjoyed and planned to marry that summer. Then came New Year's Eve—hence why 11:30 PM always brings me down—that she was in Canada visiting her parents when the rented Mazda got sideswiped by a 4x4 vehicle. She spent two months in a coma. I attempted to take compassionate leave, but since I worked for the Government and Mr. Blair wasn't having it, I took the leave anyway and lost my job. It took me just as long to recover from Sharon's loss, falling back into old bad habits. Everything changed about three years ago when my soul (my best friend Mal) called me out on my bluff and demanded I change or she'd cut ties forever. Since Mal has been there through all the hard times, I banished Cyclonus and Slave J (Joanne), giving birth to Master Malstrome.

**thank you** Just a quick note to thank those who have posted. Thank You.

**now then now the** The one person I haven't mentioned is my Miss. Mal has nothing more to do with my current life; my Mistress Lady Kismet is all I need. Things are difficult being in America while I'm here in the UK, but I can't imagine life without her. This journal will become a record of my love for Her. If such things make you sick, feel free to provide your own sick bags or read elsewhere. Now that I don't know where to start, I'll wait for my Mistress's advice before diving into this world of hurt.

**trip to heaven** I finally got locked up before we departed for New Orleans. It took about half an hour to fit the CB3000 because I was so excited. Having not been milked beforehand didn't affect my erection, nor did ice or thinking of Jabba the Hutt (mostly because Princess Leia dressed as a slave girl kept popping into my head). I absolutely loved being locked away, straining against it while Mistress teased me, sending my mind to an entirely new place. After much teasing and driving, we finally reached Sin City. Mistress and I spent three days sightseeing like tourists; the city is very eclectic with some of the friendliest people on Earth (now that I'm back in the UK, I have to get used to not saying good morning to everyone walking past). Since we are both new to the Mistress/Sissy dynamic within our relationship—even though we've been discussing and playing online for over a year—we've taken it very slowly. Last time Mistress visited the UK, even though I had all my Sissy attire ready, we started with gentle teasing and play. I have a soft spot for satin; having Mistress wrap me in a satin sheet and tease me for what felt like hours was heaven on Earth, and I was perfectly content leaving it at that. The same could be said for what happened in New Orleans. Perhaps I should just learn to say "please dress me as a slut and use me," but admitting that's what I want is difficult. All I desire is for Mistress to put these clothes on me, call me slut, and use me; however, she cares too much to do so unless she knows it's truly my wish, which explains why things have developed slowly. We played in New Orleans with hoods and general bondage, which was wonderful, but I still struggle significantly with anal sex. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I remember waking up in a warm bath after Mistress attempted to use me anally. I completely blacked out and went into shock—shivering and wanting to curl up and die. It must have been a combination of alcohol and emotions. I know it wasn't anything wrong with Mistress because I desperately want her to take me anally; it's a barrier I need to overcome but has proved impossible so far. I know better than to push too hard, though she was terrified when I went into shock. All I can say is thank you for caring for me: dragging my arse into the bath and waking up with consciousness returning as you held me—that's something I've never experienced before. I love you with all my heart and soul for that.

Slave J, hang in there. Mistress and I did the long-distance relationship for two years... She was in Florida while I was in NY. We spent every other weekend together either in NY or FL, plus a few week-long vacations to Vegas, Paris, Arizona, and NYC. We are finally living together now for nine months, and each day is better than the last.

> chastityslavejohn said: > slave j, hang in there. Mistress and i did the long distance thing for 2 years...She in Florida and me in NY. we did every other weekend together either in NY or FL and a few week long vacations...Vegas, Paris, Arizona, NYC. we are finally living together now for 9 months and every day is better than the last. > Click to expand... Thanks. I know things will improve, even though May seems like an eternity away. It breaks my heart when Miss says she'd rather not see me again and have to say goodbye, yet looks forward to the day we won't have part ways.

Hun, I didn't mean for it to sound so harsh. I'm just not sure if I can bear watching you from the other side of airport security knowing it'll be months before we see each other again. And regarding everything else: do I really make you sound like a positive saint? *sigh* Here I was enjoying the idea of having devil horns. Guess I shall have to add my perspective in my own journal.

> This journal is about to become a record of my Love for Her, if such things makes you sick then I can provide sick bags or read elsewhere > Click to expand... Easy there, lol. It's your journal after all. You are allowed to say whatever you feel.