The blog has been updated to a much more robust platform, and I have updated the design somewhat. You can now comment directly on posts, although Mommy may moderate them and not allow me to respond directly.

Mommy has shown me some of the feedback since connecting to Facebook, and some of it has been from BDSM folks who, as expected, are put off by the things I have to say. But I have also been pleasantly surprised at the amount of positive feedback.

As the blog enters a new, more public phase, I wonder how many other men out there are like me and can identify with my struggles? I know there must be some, based on the femdom porn I have seen in the past, most of which is likely produced by men. I know for example that there are men who fantasize about abuse and murder, and these thoughts excite me too. Certainly, there aren’t many dominant women in the world, or perhaps it’s more accurate to say, the vast majority of women seem to be attracted to dominant men. But how many submissive men are there by comparison? Maybe there are more than I imagine, and probably more than the number of dominant women.

I think that for various reasons, most submissive men keep their desires a very closely held secret, as I also have for many years, and they may never fulfill those desires as a result. So most men either limit themselves to a rich fantasy life or are otherwise limited to that by circumstance. Although I have criticized the fantasy-only aspect of BDSM, I don’t condemn anyone who may only want fantasy. My complaints are about the ignorant judgments BDSM folks make about people like me.

Fantasy is just one aspect of everyone’s sexuality, even if its the largest aspect, and it allows us space to safely explore new ideas. And if fantasy is the only way you have to express deep desires, you will spend a lot of time exploring them. These fantasies will naturally evolve over time and become increasingly extreme. And they can be, because there are no negative consequences to fantasizing about these things.

Who knows how it begins? For me, I think it was a set of predispositions, which naturally led me to negative situations, and then I was forced to confront the negative emotions these situations created. These negative emotions eat away at you. You keep replaying the circumstances in your mind, you are compelled to keep reliving the pain, you torture yourself. You begin to think of yourself as that person, that role you played, in the negative circumstances. Its your lot in life, it’s what you deserve. This is fundamentally who you are. You get so used to the pain, and it becomes so familiar, that its almost as comforting as it is painful.

Once these wires are crossed in your mind, its hard, maybe even impossible to uncross them, especially if you still have the same predispositions you’ve always had, it seems inescapable. I have spent many sleepless nights trying to figure out how to fix myself, to figure out if I could even be fixed at all. I even made some progress toward that goal by trying to fix my predisposition to shyness, by trying to understand and apply common social conventions, etc. But I kept slipping back into darkness, deeper and deeper each time.

(In recent years, I have accepted my predisposition to awkwardness and lack of knowledge of social norms, so that it sometimes doesn’t bother me that much when it is expressed. After all, I am just being myself, filling the role expected of me by everyone else. In fact, wouldn’t it make the others uncomfortable if I tried to act confidently? Won’t the truly confident know that it is an act, a role I don’t the right to play? It’s taken me many years, years of me resisting the truth, but I have come to internalize this truth about myself, this role that I must play.)

And because of these crossed wires, the pain itself becomes the thing you focus on, and you invert things so that you seek out, in your mind and maybe in your external life, circumstances that you know will create more of this pain, even more intensely. As uncomfortable, shy and awkward as I would be around beautiful women, I also came to like the humiliation of how stupidly I acted, and how disgusted the women would be. Every experience taught me that I was a lowly creature, and that women were always going to be elevated above me. I could never hope to be more than a source of disgust for them, so I became grateful for every second I was able to be near them, lucky to have any attention whatsoever, even if it was negative attention.

When I had my first girlfriend, I fell in love completely and unconditionally, quickly and hard. When she mistreated me, it made me feel terrible, but I accepted it, because I felt so lucky to have a girlfriend. When she cheated on me, it destroyed me. But how could I be surprised that she would cheat on someone like me? How could I think she could ever love me alone, or even at all? I was to blame for the cheating, because I was too much of a loser for her not to cheat on. I was the cause of her need to cheat, and I had to accept this is how things must be. And now I’ve come full circle: I now understand that I have been the source of my own pain all along.

This part of you is something to be ashamed of, and even afraid of. Its evil, and you can feel it slowly killing you. So, you keep it a closely guarded secret, pushing it into yourself as deeply as possible. You live in fear of it being discovered. And when it erupts in your mind, as it always does, you fight it, but eventually the desire overwhelms the shame you feel, and you masturbate to these thoughts. Afterward, once the desire has been sated, you suffer with intense self-hatred at how ugly you are, at the ugliness you need so badly.

A few months ago, when I started dating again, I had terrible insomnia each night wrestling with a fundamental question that I couldn’t answer: how far will I go? Where is the line that I won’t cross in reality, leaving everything beyond it as fantasy? Once I started dating again, I had to confront this question. I realized that over time, this line has moved. Not only have my fantasies become more extreme, but I keep going further in realizing some of them, to the point of knowingly putting myself in dangerous situations, which luckily, have not resulted in harm, yet. It sometimes scares me to think of how far I might go in the future. I might be seriously physically hurt, I might be killed, I might be so severely traumatized psychologically that I am never well again. And I might not care about these consequences. I might even want them, and seek them out.

Mommy has mentioned that she needs to protect me from the world because everyone can see that I don’t value myself, and they know they can mistreat me as a result. She says she worries I will find myself with someone who will kill me, and I worry about this too, even if the thought is also seductive.

Contemplating all of this leads to a state of extreme psychological conflict and turmoil. It leads to self-hatred as you recognize how ugly your soul is. What kind of evil creature can tolerate, even seek out, its own destruction? This is why, as a submissive man, I have had such a hard time accepting myself. Its often said that submissive men have a hard time accepting their desires because of societal norms and expectations around masculinity. But this is too simplistic, and I would even argue, completely backwards. (I might explore that tangent in a future post.)

There are things that are objectively good, and things that are objectively bad, or at least, we can all reasonably agree that some things are good and others bad. Being dominant, being a winner, being confident, these are all good. Being submissive, being a loser, having low confidence and self esteem are bad. Being forced to recognize and accept that you are a bad person with bad qualities is certainly very difficult. Maybe many can’t even make it past that point. I think I have finally, largely accepted this truth about myself.

But this level of acceptance is only the beginning, there is so much more beyond this that you have to struggle with. Because, its not just that its your lot in life to be a loser, its the realization that you feel good about being a loser that really eats away at your sanity. Feeling small feels so right, and you have to recognize that you seek out this feeling, you want to feel as small as possible. These things are much harder to accept, that you are not just evil, but that you revel in your evilness. It defies logic, and you struggle to make sense of it, but in the end, you just have to accept that you are broken, fundamentally broken, and there is no fixing you. There is no logic in the situation, and there are no acceptable answers to your questions.

Fantasizing is something that can become second nature to you when you are consumed by desire you can’t fulfill. When I started dating M, and I slowly started actually living out some of these desires, my fantasies have slowly lessened in frequency and intensity. I am happy with what Mommy and I do now, and how it is progressing, slowly and naturally. She has provided me with a safe place to exist as a broken person. I have become less focused on my desires, and have become more focused on her happiness. Making her happy is now my strongest desire. And instead of trying to create negative circumstances in my life, I am happy to drift along behind Mommy, following her lead as she takes me to the places she wants to go. I am just a thing that Mommy owns now, and I am satisfied with that. Increasingly, when she hurts me, I accept it willingly as something she wants even when I don’t.

I realize this has been a pretty long, rambling, and disjointed post. Still I wonder, how many men reading this have these same desires, have asked these same questions, had these same struggles? I am only beginning to understand it, I think, despite how much time I spend trying to solve the puzzle of my mind. Maybe someone out there has figured out more than I have been able to.

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