Steellover

I have heard of many guys who want to wear a chastity device, but who are into having a "long distance" keyholder, or a casual pro domme as a keyholder.  Nothing wrong with that arrangement if you are into that, and I say this not to judge, but it's not my thing, and here's why.

Before I surrender the keys to my sexual release to you, I want to get to know you, and trust you intimately.  I want our relationship to be established, to build from more than just a brief dialogue with a stranger over the internet. Before I surrender my cock cage key, I want our relationship to grow into something meaningful and long-term, where the bond of trust, the butterflies of romance, and the dynamic of submission is already well established.  My keyholder will be someone I love, cherish, and respect, and interact with on an intimate basis, regularly.  Not just during a once-in-a-while session.  And certainly not someone I only know by an image on a computer screen.  (Who could be any person of any gender behind that image on that screen.)

Surrendering the key to my device should be an act of love, of devotion, and not something I would freely give up to just anyone.  And I suppose I am far more particular on that, then many subs. Part of this is practical; what if, for example, you have an emergency, and need to remove it, and the only address you have for your keyholder is some PO box two states away?  But part of it is, devotion and trust is not something I give lightly, and the same goes for my cock-cage key.  That, I am saving for my future mistress, domme, girlfriend, and life partner to be- if she will accept it.

For those who want to experiment with chastity play and the wearing of a device, I would say, be your own keyholder first. Then you will be ready when the right person comes along, to hand it off to her.

Life is a journey, and with it comes battles.  

Of those that are relevant to this subject, my greatest battle was self-acceptance.  Coming to terms with the fact that yes, I am submissive, sexually.  I like to please, and derive more pleasure in giving pleasure than receiving, and be told what to do, and to be "disciplined" when I fail. As a guy this isn't easy to accept.  I was told this once, early on, and I even remember arguing against it, until that day when I saw a video of a pro dungeon, and it was like a pandora's box had awoken a flood of feelings. And at first, while I tried to accept it, I was overwhelmed with the usual sub-frenzy and cringeworthy newbie mistakes that a lot of kinky guys make.  Feeling these things for the first time was, to put it mildly, pretty intense.  I've "Binged and purged," many times, trying to swear off these feelings.  But they always return. So I've accepted it, and I am at peace with myself. Finally.  Battle is over.

Then there was the struggle to learn about what it really means to be submissive, to get over the sub-frenzy fueled mistakes of not knowing.  I feel like I am winning that one, but there is always more to learn.  Experience is the best teacher.

But the next battle was for acceptance of others.   I cannot expect the mainstream vanilla society to just accept my submissive nature, but that's fine; my intimate personal life and romantic/sexual relationships are nobody else's business anyway.  So I keep it to myself, stay in the closet, and express my thoughts only to people who I know would understand.  People like you who read this.  (And thank you for reading it by the way.)  In any case I am far more than just "A Submissive." I am a graphic artist, white collar technical worker, musician, outdoor adventurer, sports fan, and much more. Most people who know me, know me for one or more of these things.  None of them know about... this stuff.  So I guess this battle was fought to a stalemate, but that's fine; call it a cease-fire.

The last battle is to find a compatible partner who will accept me as I am and who is okay with it.  Not creeped out, or simply unsatisfied, if not scared off  This is the toughest one, and the battle continues.  I've had my trysts with professionals of course and whatever short term satisfaction there was only left me empty and lonely afterwards. 

So that's all I got.  America just battled to a soccer victory over some European team despite being a man down, so if there's hope there, then there is hope for victory.  Forward into countless battles!

Sometimes I wish I could just stop time.

Those perfect moments where, you are in the moment, everything is bliss, and you don't want time to ever progress.

Those moments are fleeting, but I hold onto them forever.

Sitting by a swimming hole in the river with your best buddies, on a warm summer day in the sunshine, diving off the rocks, splashing around.  

Watching the sun set over the ocean, on a buddy's back porch.

Ripping down the mountain on a perfect snow day, or blasting down a trail on a warm summer evening. 

Being in the glow of deep subspace, basking in your dominant's presence and your own submission, or a perfectly vanilla moment, watching the sun set in the hills together. 

That camping trip up river where the oly stubby bottles all floated away down the river because we had them in there to keep cool, and where Nick had that howling call-and-response duet with that coyote.  It was an awesome time- even with the lost beer, and made it hard to come back to work the next day.

That perfect solo trip up to that mountain lake last summer. 

You just want to stop time.   Sit up on that mountain forever, keep taking runs on that perfect snow day and never get tired, and keep each other warm watching that sunset, stretching that moment forever. Not even Einstein could do that.

So last month, Mom sold our house.  It had to happen; she's in an assisted living place now and there was no logical reason to keep it as our own personal "Air Beianbee." Nor the upkeep funds, which she obviously needed.  That place she's at isn't cheap.   So while my logical mind has long since accepted it, and emotionally I have long since done so as well, subconsciously I still dream about it, sometimes reliving that last day where I walked through it and grabbed what I could out of there, other times reliving the good moments, the perfect family moments- Christmases, happy occasions, harmony, sanctuary from a troubled world- that I don't ever want to let go of.

I had hoped that the buyers would be a family with kids, who would grow up there, and who would enjoy the place as we did when we were kids.  Tromping through the hills and woods below, playing ball in the street, riding bikes around the block, having kid adventures, and running up and down stairs and through the living room and dining room, laughing, playing, and sometimes arguing, the way we did.  That's how I imagined it, what I hoped and dreamed.  But sadly, it appears the buyers are just some big time billionaire property investor types, whose only plan is to "Fix it n' flip it," like what happens to so many other homes these days.  They offered $400,000 over the already impressive 2 million+ asking price.  That's cash, not financed, mind you.   Mom had no choice but to accept an offer like that. I get it, money talks, but money cannot buy you those perfect, genuine, lasting moments that we had. 

And I only hope that the future will offer more of those moments, those perfect times where you just want to slow down and not let time slip away. 

Right off the bat, there's not gonna be any "racy" stuff this time. Some may see this as a good thing, some may be dissappointed, but it seems like no matter what I write, I can't please everyone...  

So this is for anyone who's ever travelled through Nevada.  If you haven't been there, or even if you have, you usually just think "Las Vegas, Deserts, Hoover Lake (you know, the lake that is dammed up by Hoover Dam) or maybe some area 51 aliens type stuff.  So a couple weeks back, I took a trip through the back roads of northern Nevada, just because... nobody else ever goes there, so why not. You wouldn't believe what I found, and it was both amazing, beautiful, and weird in a way you would never suspect.  

After heading south from Mountain Home, Idaho, I ended up passing through some hard-scrabble border towns (Owyhee and Mountain City) then took a detour on some back road.  The aspens, mountains, and wildflowers were gorgeous here. Tall stands of white aspens, wildflowers galore, rugged mountains and just green- green everywhere.  Not the Mars-like desert you expect.  So eventually I ended up at what is probably the weirdest town I have ever been to- Tuscarora.  It sits, out there off by itself, at the end of a dirt road, miles from anything important, the nearest town of any size (Elko) being over an hour away.  This place was just... fucking WEIRD.  But in a really cool way.  Imagine "The Hills Have Eyes" mixed with "Mad Max" and a healthy dose of Burning Man, and you might have an idea what this place was like.  Most of the buildings here were in various stages of decomposition and disrepair, but those that were standing were just... the residents who lived here (of which I would guess there were maybe two or three dozen or so) felt like "Fuck it; we can do whatever we want!  Just go nuts!"  You'd see things like an old model T pickup with a skeleton in it.  Giant sculptures of a huge slipper and a detergent bottle in the yard.  There was an old hotel labeled "Pottery School." Where apparently, they actually do hold pottery classes.  Random rusted machinery of all descriptions- old appliances, motors, and who knows what else, just strewn everywhere.  And this giant brick tower plopped on the western edge of town.  Because, I guess, Why not?  The pictures don't do it justice, but I'll upload some: 

Anyway, I spend the afternoon just wandering around here, then drove down to Winnemucca to spend the night.  There was this carnival type thing going on, live rock n' roll, carnival booths, food, and so on, which was pretty fun.

Then the next morning, I could have just shot straight up highway 95 to Boise but, that would be boring, right?  No, I instead headed over to Paradise Valley, a quaint, and really cool little back country town with all kinds of historic old buildings, part ghost town and part functioning modern village.  The little store here served lunch and drinks, and everyone was super friendly here.  Then, over two mountain passes, where the scenery got more and more spectacular, and the road got moree and more progressively gnarlier.  If you've never driven over Windy Gap pass, well, let me say there are few roads that inspire sheer white knuckle shrieking terror more than this road.  It just switchbacks steeply down the face of the mountain, the dirt road about as wide as your vehicle... and with 1000 foot drop-offs.   In other words, it was awesome... once you make it to the bottom. Anyway, it was all in all, a super fun little adventure, and fun to check out some places that not many other people would venture.  Maybe there's a good reason for that, ha ha.

"I know you better than you know yourself," she says.

"I know all of your innermost secrets, your deepest, darkest secrets.  I know what you secretly crave, your most intimate desires, and your deepest and most secret needs.  And I know how to make them come true."

"And our bond is deeper and more intense than that of any of my casual lovers," she adds.  "They satisfy a different craving, that you cannot.  Your submission satisfies me in a deeper way than they ever could."

Kneeling, naked and bound in front of her, I nod eagerly.  She has summed it up perfectly... I would have it no other way.

That is the way I dream of a BDSM relationship working.  A connection on a much deeper, more emotional level than any casual hook up.  A confession, and a realization, of our darkest and deepest fantasies, the parts we keep hidden from the world, and sometimes even hidden from ourselves.

Hopefully the site owners will come to the realization that the forums are not working today.  Don't worry though; I trust they are on top of it. Teasing and denying us through the lack of working forums, like web page chastity.  Once it is fixed, then the release will be awesome! 

When you are hopelessly locked up,

And those old memories, that old need, comes back, memories of what you once enjoyed, 

And your need for sex, for penetration, pure raging animal lust, becomes unbearable...

The want, the need to feel Her body as She teases and torments you, grinds against your caged cock and the discomfort becomes more than you can stand... 

Are you going to be a whiny bratty sub, begging for a release that you have not yet earned, and thereby earn a session of hard discipline?

Or will you tough it out, and live vicariously through Her lover, imagining yourself in his place as he satisfies her for you, relishing and worshipping his cock like a surrogate, as She wishes.  Let his satisfaction become yours.

If you do the latter, the release you will earn will be so much more satisfying than any casual sex could ever be.  

I generally avoid obsessively blog-posting about kink, for a couple reasons.  First of all, one person's kink is another person's cringe, and the more extreme your kink, the more people will find it cringe.  I try to keep that in mind whenever I find myself falling into a sub-frenzy, like I sometimes do.

Also, I am more than just the sum of my kinks; I have a lot of other outside interests, and other things going on in my life, that I like to share about.  That is only one small, facet of who I am.  "Submissive?" "Kinky?" yes for sure, but also artistic, into sports, music, the outdoors, cars, collectables, history, and a whole lot more.

With that said, I have complex feelings about corporal discipline, spanking and paddles. 

I am not super pain tolerant; not a "pain slut" by any means.

But yet, it isn't just about the pleasure of the sensation, or wanting it. I feel like it's an innate NEED.

Like an addiction to narcotics, only less self-destructive and harmful.  I don't really want, but rather I NEED, to feel the paddle on my behind, the sting of the rod, the harsh impact of the flogger. 

I need that discipline, that feeling that she, not I, am in charge, and I need that punishment for those misdeeds, those naughty thoughts, that inattentiveness to her. 

I need her to exact her price for my sins towards her. 

I need to feel like I am strong for her, stoic for her, and that I can take her punishment like a man. 

I need to feel a little scared, a little nervous.

I need to feel hurting, sore, on the verge of using the safe word, but hoping to hold out for one more whack of the paddle.

And it's an intimate need to share with the one I trust, the one whom I love and admire, and overall, the one willingly surrender to.

And I also hope, through all of it most importantly, that her needs are being met as well, and that the things I do for her will fulfill those needs.  

That's all I got; I'll post something less kink related next time.

I wake up in a daze, and greet the day.  Get ready for school. It’s a beautiful spring day, and finals are around the corner.  Maybe now I’ll finally get the nerve to ask Melissa to prom.

But in a brief moment of clarity, I realize Melissa is long gone.  Of course.

I sit at the desk.  The classroom is deserted.  Has been for some time, in fact. But I sit through the lesson, as the teacher drones on, and I count out the moments until the final bell.  The teacher explains something, yet it is eerily silent.

The final bell rings.  I walk through the empty halls. There is nobody to give me a ride home. The parking lot is empty. How long has it been since I last walked through these doors, for the last time? It’s been a long, long time, I realize.  The world has moved on. I guess I’ll drive myself home.

Get home and study. Do homework, eat dinner. It’s a nice evening; let’s see who’s out and about.  I walk through the neighborhood, thinking of the kids playing pick-up flag football and ultimate Frisbee in the streets. Maybe I’ll head down to the grocery store at the strip mall, or the quickie mart, in the hopes she’ll be there with her friends.  Sometimes she’s there at the Starbucks.  If so, maybe I’ll say hi. But wait, I don’t want to be too creepy or too obvious.  I wonder if she even wants to go to the prom at all.

The neighborhood is empty. The kids have grown up and moved away long ago. Even their families are gone.  Empty houses stare back at me.  I get to the Safeway parking lot, and the lot is empty.   The store is closed, there are no teenagers at the empty Starbucks, or at the closed quickie mart.   A quiet breeze cools the air. It is a warm, early evening. Nobody is around though.  The world has moved on.

Go home, cook some dinner, think wistfully about yesterday, and about what I need to do tomorrow.  Hey, at least tomorrow’s Friday.

I head to work, and the traffic is unnaturally light. I breeze through every single stop light and find a parking space as close to the front door as you can get.  I admire the weather; perfect, not too cool, sunny.  I walk in, get to my desk, log onto the system.  It is a slow day.  I really don’t have anything to do.  Everything is caught up.  Bored, I just sit there and look busy.  My boss doesn’t say anything. He isn’t there. 

After a while, I decide to head to the break room and grab some coffee.  Maybe I’ll see Angela there. She’s so sweet and always so friendly. I don’t THINK she’s married, but somehow I’m always afraid to ask her out.  I don’t want to get in trouble; they say that workplace relationships can be problematic.  But I do secretly like her.  I hope she doesn’t find out. 

She’s not there, though.  There is nobody in the break room, of course.  I grab my coffee, and return to my desk.

I sit, and stare at the clock.  Wait till lunch.  Downtown restaurants are thankfully not crowded today. In fact, nothing is crowded. There are no people anywhere.

After lunch, I finish my work for the day.  Nobody bothers me, even though I almost wish they would.  I want to ask Jeff about something, see what Will’s doing this weekend.  They aren’t here, though. It is lonely and empty, and I can’t wait for 5 o’clock. Once the day ends, I head for the exit, and realize, once again, that it has been decades since I retired.  The world has moved on since then.

I return home, through empty streets, to an empty house, and contemplate my place in a world that has long since moved on.  Patti is gone.  The kids are gone, even the grand kids have moved up and out, starting families of their own.  Deserted malls, empty houses, all the places I loved, hung out at, experiencing both joys, satisfaction, frustration and heartache, in, all empty now.

Maybe it’s time I let go, and move on with it too.  Because as wonderful as the past was, sometimes I still feel trapped in it. I’m nothing more than a breeze, a voice on the wind, only an echo, just a memory.

__________________

While this is a work of short fiction (I hope it wasn't too short, or too long) it does reflect how I sometimes feel, when I return to old haunts and relive old times.  Being sentimental is both a blessing and a curse.  I want to let go of the past, but still hang on to those memories that are pleasant, or even the less pleasant ones that shaped me into the person I turned out to be.  Thankfully things are going okay for me in the here and now, maybe not perfect; I am still searching for "The One," but at least okay, for the time being.

Sometimes you just want to escape, to those special places that touch your soul. I am lucky to live within only a couple hours away from some very special places, that are still relatively untouched by mass tourism, usurious entrance fees, and all the other accompanying problems you see at places like Yosemite, Yellowstone, Glacier, and the like. 

But this place, to me, is every bit as intense and beautiful as those places.  I come here often, for day trips, just to discover more of what lies beyond the next ridge or the next valley.  From the subtle patterns of banded rhyolite and chert in the rocks, to the beautiful and interesting wildflowers, to the wildlife (Always a chance to see wild horses, rams-horn sheep, coyotes, and other intersesting critters) to the grandiose, castle like crags and mountains stretching into the distance. 

It was about a 4 and a quarter mile hike out (8.5 miles roundtrip) to this particular spot.  I'd been in this area many, many times but never hiked to this particular spot.  It was a lot of up and down walking, following a rugged jeep trail along the ridge line, but when I got to this view point, it was all worth it. Perfect weather too, not too hot.  This wouldn't really be feasible in the heat of summer, as there isn't a lot of shade.  You do need sunscreen for this one. But once I was here, I just wanted to stay, take in the view, pretend it was my castle, and put off the long march back to the rig for as long as possible. And in my mind, while sitting at my desk, I kept the memory of this view with me to help battle the doldrums of a boring work day.

A couple weeks ago, I went and watched this legendary 70's hard rock band, at one of our local live music spots, none other than, the almighty Pentagram! 

So you've never heard of them?  Well, I guess that's the point.  This was a band that had so many close brushes with fame and rock n'roll immortality over the years, it's rather shocking that they weren't right up there with Ozzy, Judas Priest, Scorpions, or Blue Oyster Cult in hard rock consciousness.  Formed by singer Bobby Liebling clear back in 1971, they've persevered for over five decades, despite countless setbacks, breakups, hiatuses, drug issues, you name it. Every time they were right on the cusp of breaking big, it would all get derailed.  And sadly, a lot of that was self-sabotage, as drug problems, infighting and bad luck would always rear their head. But it was mostly the former, as Liebling battled hard drugs his entire life.  At one point Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley were going to get them a record deal, as they were impressed with their songs, but when they went to watch them rehearse, they were dissappointed by the lack of image (they dressed like regular working stiffs, not a circus act) and passed on them.  They even offered a hefty cash deal for some of the songs Liebling & co had written, but the band said no, basically.

Then came the 80s, an ugly breakup, more drug use, then finally their debut album.  And it was excellent, and had huge reviews.  But by 1985 when it came out (Two years after it was recorded, mind you) rock n'roll was all about the hairspray and makeup, and the new, cutting edge underground music was thrash metal like Metallica and Slayer, and punk like Black Flag, Suicidal Tendencies, and the Misfits.  As good as the album was, it was still stuck in the 70's underground aesthetic and was never destined to be a hit.  Several more albums followed, VERY sporadically, mind you, but over the ensuing decades, numerous drug , and accompanying legal troubles, Bobby Liebling persevered, never really giving up on his rock n' roll dreams.  

And he and his newest version of the band delivered one hell of a show.  For a contemporary of Ozzy, Liebling sounded great, still delivering an energetic performance, not a drugged out zombie like you would expect, and at 73, he admittedly looks much older than his years.  But he sang and moved around with the energy of a seasoned youthful veteran full of energy, and delivered a great show.  The music has shades of Alice Cooper, Blue Oyster Cult and of course Black Sabbath, and one can only imagine that if he had a little more self-discipline over the years, Bobby Liebling could have been America's answer to Ozzy.  Anyway, here you go, listen for yourself and tell me what you think; Pentagram played this track at their show 2 weeks ago and it sounded note-for-note perfect just like the album, heck maybe even better.