I’d say 95% of the time I’m dominant with a fetishistic hedonist streak laced with sadism. I love seeing how Tinky reacts to bondage and stimulation, whether it’s physical torment or verbal humiliation. Having her tied or gagged or helpless is such a powerful and enjoyable experience.
There are times when I want to be the one who is helpless. I want it to be me who is restrained and gagged and blindfolded. I want it to be me who has their face slapped or their balls kicked or be called vile, racist names. For a while at least I want to escape from the world and not be responsible or capable.
These feelings tend to arise as my stress levels climb. My work is quite demanding creatively and I can find myself caught in cycles of frustration brought on by client delays or difficulties within the work. Most of the time I manage these quite well, but sometimes they catch me out and spiral a bit. The more stressed I become the more I find myself thinking about submission.
For the most part I can deal with these feelings by writing. When I write I submerge myself in my characters and for an hour or two at least I adopt the persona of the character’s point of view. My submissive energies go into writing male-submissive erotica and usually this is all I need to satisfy this brief pause and continue with my torment of Tinky.
It doesn’t always work.
Since I realised I was dominant about a decade ago I’ve only reached the point where I’ve acted on these desires twice.
The first was as my marriage started to fall apart. I reached a low point where my then wife was telling me my fetishes were disgusting and that she thought I was gay. Perhaps having already realised it was at an end I visited a professional dominatrix and asked her to rape me. It was the most intense experience I’d had to that point in my life. As thoroughly degraded as I felt at the end of that session I also felt relieved, empowered and ready to face the world again.
The second lasted for some months. Although the marriage had ended I was still living in the marital home, which was incredibly stressful. I came to rely on my then best friend as a source of solace. She already knew about some of my kinks, but as we became closer she started to ask more about them. And I told her more than I’d told anyone, perhaps even myself.
Which is when the gimp was created.
gimp (always with a lowercase g) was a creature I created to absorb every submissive fantasy and desire we had. It was always completely enclosed in black latex. It always did everything its owner told it to. What started as simple tasks developed into weeks of chastity and full-on discussions about pimping me out on Craigslist. gimp has its own KIK account and answered its Mistress whenever she called.
Twice I showed up at her place with gimp ready to be revealed to her and twice she backed out. gimp remained a virtual creature.
Finally it started to fizzle away. My divorce was done and I moved into my own place. The stress was flowing off me and I was finding my centre again. As much as I wanted to submit to her and remain her gimp the part that craved dominance became ever louder. Years before I’d tied her up at a party for a laugh, and when I tied her as part of our love making I knew something had ended. We said our goodbyes and gimp was tucked away in boxes both physical and mental.
Occasionally gimp has resurfaced. I’ve used it to help me drive stories forward, or tapped into memories to help me move something forward. But since I’ve met Tinky this has purely been me pulling it out of memory rather than it wanting to be there. It’s a reference point, a useful resource and nothing more.
Only of late I’ve been incredibly stressed, burnt out almost. My work has overwhelmed me and I’ve been left exhausted from anxiety and unable to sleep. I’m ashamed to say I’ve neglected Tinky and her needs simply because I’ve had no energy or motivation. And while an end is in sight and stress will once more leave me at the moment I am very much its servant.
After another sleepless night I found myself pulling down the case where I keep the leather body bag that I used to wrap myself up in. I took it out, put it on the bed and then I had to take out the mask and some of the other toys that were acquired. I didn’t play with them, or put them on, I just held them and looked at them and for a moment at least I went back to the times when I was dressed and shackled and being submissive.
And then came the revelation. Yes, I am dominant. Yes, I enjoy being the Master of Tinky and having her do as I wish. It’s my default position and the one that I take the greatest pleasure from.
But that doesn’t mean that every now and then I can’t want to switch roles to satisfy a different need.
So after this past decade of discovery what does my entry say under “D/s identity”?
Tagged: Fetish Lifestyle
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