My Hunger

My hunger for submission is becoming an emotional burden again.

I think about being enslaved when I go to bed. And on arising. And D/s imagery punctuates my day. Even to the degree of making it almost impossible for me to function at work. Quite pointlessly I find myself anxious to hurry back home. It isn’t as if the old shanty offers me any solace.

Typical of many men like myself in these circumstances I feel a strong need to be rendered lowly. I want that loss of self and ego that can be one of the greatest blessings of the submissive nature. I want someone gifted at that psychological magic of making himself or herself infinitely more important than myself. (Not that I’d ever really forget my own merit: I’m not that kind of fool.)

And I want pain. Hurt that challenges. The kind of pain you ride like a wild stallion. You grit your teeth and hold on. That isn’t quite right because you ride with it. (Masochism is so damned oxymoronic.) Eventually there’s a quantum transition. You become transparent. Conventional distinctions between pain, pleasure, endurance, surrender - all these things fall away.

And some person who will enjoy with benign selfishness exacting, extracting all that from me.

Really the question will ultimately be: what will I settle for.