Current Fantasy Life

Alone and by myself I start and conclude my days masturbating. Twice a day, every day. Well, maybe more on my days off from work.

Yes, yes I know. You are thinking Alexandra should’ve slapped a CB-3000 or whatnot on me.

Ever since I fell in love with her my BDSM fantasy life has never been what it once was. Don’t read that wrongly. It should change in response to having a lover.

It used to be a horrifically Sadean Theatre of Pain. But I find I’m not nearly as able to amuse myself by images of sustained brutal torture.

Actually I have a bit of a problem fantasizing at all anymore. I’ve mentioned that before.

Oh my inner dream machine can pile on images of terrifying sufferings and humiliations.

But rather than focusing on the nuances and details of these masochist’s delights these become fantasies of conditioning.

They’ve become more of a ritualistic, almost Zen-like stripping away of my ego. Of abandoning will and freedom.

The goal of the fantasies is always profound self-abnegation, deepest worship. Evolving into pet, puppet, instrument of another’s will.

Living in an emotional space where thankful obedience is as involuntary in the sense your heart’s beating is involuntary.

Being me I gaze upon this part of my inner life with the disinterested curiosity of an entomologist pondering some new species of Lepidoptera.

No revulsion or rejection. Nor any sense that this is how I will one day live.

For now I’ll hold off evaluating these feelings.