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June 12, 2000
Sometimes I wonder what
would happen if I just swallowed my pride, choked back my cowardice, and
simply did what I longed to do. Why
is it so difficult for people to do what it is they wanted and forget
about the consequences? Why
is it that it is those unforeseen consequences that prevents people from
actually reaching out and taking for themselves what it is that they most
want?
What is bravery? I had once thought that bravery was simply doing what was expected
of you and getting on with your life without crying to the government for
help; that it was simply existing unhindered by thoughts and actions
beyond what makes up a persons psyche. Bravery was living. Now,
I am not so sure. Now as I
sit and write these words, I feel that I may have been wrong. Bravery isn’t getting by. Bravery is reaching beyond what you are and struggling to become
what you long to be. Bravery
is growth; cowardice is simply being.
Throughout the ages men,
far braver than I am, have reached beyond themselves to do more in their
short tenure of power than most people could accomplish in multiple
lifetimes. Bravery was
reaching for the heavens and shooting into space. Bravery was combing the ocean depths for secrets of the past that
could shape the future. Bravery
was taking thoughts and making them into actions regardless of the
consequences if they failed and honored for their courage if they
succeeded.
I am a coward.
November 3, 2000
There are words in the English language that can mean so many
things that it is hard to fathom their existence. Simple words had the power to change lives beyond the mundane to
the fantastic or horrific. There
were words to confuse the deepest thinkers of society and words to alter
the course of history. Today,
I met one of those words.
Fired.
Sure, they can call it what the will, beautify the words with
kindness and wrap them with gentle platitudes to make them more palatable,
but they still meant the same thing.
Fired.
They call it downsizing or laid-off or cutbacks but in the end with
all the sugar removed and the medicine swallowed it all meant the same
thing, I was fired. Evicted
from my place of employment with callous disregard to what would transpire
as the future unfolded. The
future was unreadable as it was, but now with the prospect of waking each
day without a job, it appeared even bleaker. My future was a black tunnel into the unknown where light seemed to
become trapped. Despair lived
in that darkness, acting kind and benevolent only to swallow you up and
overtake any rational thought, forcing you to wallow in self-pity and
loathing. Despair lived on those feelings of helplessness and confusion
and would consume your thoughts and perpetuate the feelings that ravaged
the mind only to spit out the refuge as further feelings of helpless
confusion. It was a
self-perpetuating cycle of anger and despondency that could consume a
person’s will and sap their strength.
Fired.
It was a powerful word.
April 9, 1999
I met a woman online today that has proved to be most interesting. She lives about forty miles from me and though we have not made any
plans to meet, she has still captivated my mind and stolen my thoughts. I had been perusing the Femdom chat rooms when she appeared. She was the center of attention, commanding about a dozen men,
having them abuse themselves for her pleasure. She kept track of what each of them was doing and still had time to
question my silence.
It had taken me a moment to realize that she was speaking to me,
drawing me into her world. She
had typed a simple, “are you ignoring me?” Those four words prompted
my response to the contrary and immediately she began talking to me about
what I was doing there and what I had ever done.
I found it easy to confess everything to her. Perhaps it was her
easy nature that came through on screen or maybe it was the fact that
nameless men were willingly sticking large vegetables in their ass for her
amusement, but I was able to confess my interest in giving my will to
another and obeying. It was a
fantasy I had envisioned but had never had the courage to act upon.
And she called me on it.
She had commanded me write to her, whispering to me her email
address. Perhaps it was my
coy confusion that had prompted her guidance or the need to corrupt
someone as obviously unblemished by actions in the past, but she had
commanded me to write her and then had dismissed me, telling me to leave
the chat room. She said that she would train me and that she wanted some
things to remain a mystery and as such did not want to me listen in on the
activities that were transpiring in the little black letters on the
screen.
I thanked her and logged off. The last thing I read before leaving was a small sentence, “lucky
him.”
April 10, 1999
I wrote the letter that she had commanded. I confessed my desire to submit and my fear of action. I told her of the years of masturbation fantasies I had had
about giving myself to another. And
while they were fantasies, they were vivid and strong and that they felt
right. I explained this to
her and before I could change my mind I clicked “send.”
Now I can only wait.
April 11, 1999
She wrote back. A few
simple sentences, “you must first learn patience. You are not to write me or come looking for me. I will contact you… in time. Until then, go about your life.” She had signed her name,
Mistress Collette. Then, almost
as an afterthought she had written, “p.s. Your cock is mine. Don’t touch it.”
That was the game. The
first test; so simple and yet so powerful. She would contact me at her leisure, letting me know when she was
ready. And I was to prove myself to her by yielding control of my
pleasure to supplement hers. I
sighed and knew I would consent; it was a worthwhile trade.
November 4, 2000
I am going to do what I have been unable to do for almost a six
months. Wish me luck. I no longer have the job that was preventing me from taking
the plunge and now that that decision was taken from me I found it easy to
follow the path my heart had longed to take.
April 25, 1999
She wrote me today. “Masturbate
for me.”
That was it. Three
words. After two weeks I was
more than ready to come and quickly I brought myself to orgasm.
It dawned on me as I was cleaning the mess and flushing the
evidence that I had obeyed without thought. I read the words and had instantly dropped my shorts to the floor
and masturbated into a napkin. There
was no thinking involved. I
had simply obeyed. As I was
shaking my head the computer toned its new mail notification.
This time there were only two words. “Very good.”
May 13, 2000
“I want you to quit your job.”
Shaking my head, “I can’t.”
She looked at me with a look that broke my heart. “I can’t,” I repeated.
And she pushed me out the door. The look on her face broke my heart.
April 29, 1999
Mistress Collette called me on the phone today. Her voice was a melodic whisper that sounded both passionate and
playful. Her voice was a
symphony that made my heart sing with pleasure. I could hear her smiling in the phone. “I want to meet you.”
I agreed.
Plans were made.
May 14, 2000
I tried calling Mistress Collette today. She didn’t answer her phone and when I left a message I could
only hope that she would return the call.
May 17, 2000
She didn’t.
April 30, 1999
We met for dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant. She was beautiful and her smile could melt the darkest hearts. Her voice was a song carried on a musical lilt. We hugged when we first met and when the evening was over and I
returned to my empty home I realized my soul had gone home with her. I was empty without her and with the realization came an easy calm
that brought a smile to my lips.
I was happy and whole.
May 19, 2000
She finally contacted me in writing. The words were cold and harsh. “I had expected more from you. You obviously were not listening when I asked you to come live with
me. You were to be my slave. Full time. You no
longer needed your job. Instead
you foolishly chose to maintain a death grip on your male pride and
refuse. You men think it is
your careers that make you who you are. You do not realize that foolishness in that position.
“If you change your mind I will be here. If not… goodbye.”
I cried.
May 20, 2000
Still crying.
May 1, 1999
I went home with Collette last night. Her home was clean and cozy and I had immediately felt comfortable
within the pale white walls. We
spent the evening in the master bedroom with me bringer her to countless
orgasms until she had finally whispered, “no more.”
It was a perfect night. I
was sorry that it ended.
November 5, 2000
I knocked on her door. With
my job behind me and my courage all but gone I reached into the part of
myself that longed to be here and steeled myself for this meeting. It had been nearly six months since our argument when I had
foolishly declined her offer to belong to her. I was here to remedy that mistake and step into a world of
completion that would make me the person I had always felt I should be.
She opened the door and smiling she stepped aside.
Together, forever, we lived as one.
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