A mesmerizing image of a hooded woman makes my mind wander. What if? Turns out I'm not ready yet. Probably never will. It's OK. Love is a sacrosanct privilege that turns men-slaves into spoiled subbies. And for good reason.
Dutch loves to travel. And by that I don't mean hotel-hopping for those who choose bland comfort over the experience of a lifetime. Dutch not only loves to travel, he's also privileged because he doesn't care about luxuries 'n' stuff. It's the thrill of the unknown that lures him. New people, new places and more adventures. Still, destinations where they have enough food are nice though.
It's probably also part explanation why Dutch enjoys his kink so much. Both are adventures, albeit different ones. Say what you want but kink is a journey of it's own. In the real world, Dutch has to rely on his wits to get by whenever it gets complicated. In the dungeon, it's mostly the other way around. "Whatever I do, I have to keep my mouth shut." "Don't say a word" my inner voice keeps on reminding.
In both instances, listening to my inner self is key to my survival. Dutch also learns a lot. One thing I learned is that each and every journey is about happiness. And happy memories of course.
On the road, I accept things can go wrong. After all, do the things I do and you understand it's inevitable. Soit. Very much OK with that. Also part of the price I pay for my vanilla fun. Just make sure to tell the ones you love, you do, before you go. It may be the last time ever. Seriously.
Meanwhile in the dungeon, I'm not OK with things going wrong. Freak accidents do happen but other than that I only surrender to my Love and mistress because she keeps me safe.
Safety is key when it comes to giving up control without hesitation. She owns me, controls me and will forever protect me. The rest is non-negotiable. It's why I drop to my knees in front of her in the blink of an eye. After that, even on all fours I usually feel a bit wobbly because of her. Lucky guy and truly blessed, yes.
A slave shaking in fear and anticipation of what's to come is not the best way to show appreciation for the woman under whose eternal protection you are. You may very well think she's under your eternal protection too, just not right there and then. Nobody thinks about that, tied up in inescapable bondage.
Dutch, the man, is rather inflexible. Slave Dutch, on the other hand, tries his best, despite his many limitations. I embraced my kink on a much younger age than most of you. Despite that, your kink is probably more liquid than mine. To me kink means one mistress, one slave, in loving harmony at the best of times. For a long time I've been struggling with the fact that a lot of dommes enjoy public humiliation. Me at my best is just mistress and me. Unlike travel, I feel absolutely zero need to broaden my horizon and be humiliated in front of other [consenting] women. The fact that my vanilla horizon widens while my kink outlook is stuck in zero, doesn't mean mistress isn't curious about exposing her slave to the wider, wicked world. Love can only thrive if you give more than you get. It's how management gurus came up with that lame win-win thing. So I try to compromise, but for now it's only in my mind. Too scary and so on.
Let's say that for Christmas I gave mistress a little note instead of a pair of [rather self-serving] leather pajama's. It reads "I'll try it once with you by my side." A couple of weeks later and it is one minute to midnight. Mistress has left me in the dungeon, signed, sealed and delivered for whatever comes next.
In the moonlight I see the outline of a woman approaching. My superior slave senses [Dutch was bitten by a submissive male spider at a young age] spot her wearing a leather hood. Spider bite or not, my stress reaches epic proportions. Sometimes kink is a nasty game. Trust and fear never go hand in hand.
My heartbeat goes all the way to 111 and doesn't stop there. Right now, I'd give anything not to hear that door open. Insane fears flash through my mind. I desperately want to put that smile on her face. I also want to be with her forever. I just don't want to be here, right now.
Life's all about give and take, so I smiled bravely and nodded when she asked me if I was really ready to climb that hill before strapping me down. In all honesty, it's not my hill, but our hill. Still, I'm the one who has to climb it. Let's hope it's the kind of challenge that makes you come back for more. Be real, there's only one pain men can endure indefinitely. It's called love.
The door slowly opens, a leather hood still masking her face. My inner voice rescues me once again. Been around the world. Never in full control but always a long way from home. Inevitably alone too. Not this time. So why do I hesitate so much when I'm the only one in the room, but with her by my side, watching over me. Primal I guess.
"I'm doing this because I'm an adventurer. Whoa!"Dude, you're tied up with no way out.In the end, even the most restless traveler longs to come home, provided he has one. Tonight I came home as usual. Before I opened the front door, I briefly glanced at the decorations next to it. Two wooden hearts, stubbornly resisting the passing of time. A faint smile escaped from my lips.
"Sorry, I meant I want to make mistress proud."
After what you just said? Get real.
"You're right, I'm doing this for us."
Really? Lame.
Turn them over and one of it says, heart is where the home is. D'oh. Even globetrotters need a safe haven. Sanctuaries are not made of bricks and mortar but loving, soft arms.
As the hooded woman enters the dungeon, the moon lights her silhouette from behind. Still don't know who she is. Why am I doing this? If I survive, never ever again, no matter how much she loves me. One step forward, 11 steps back. Still don't recognize who the mystery mistress is. My heart is about to explode, then she comes to mind. It's why I'm here. Thank you Lady Luck. The thought of her eyes and her smile calm me down. My biggest fear in life is to fail her, but it takes two to tango. I'm still scared, but different.
---
"Please don't hug me so tight baby" she whispers as she falls asleep. In my arms! Mine! The adrenaline rush impairs my judgment. She knows, she understands and she cares. "Please, baby" is all that she whispers. "Please." "Baby." [Make no mistake, she's mine!] I feel bad for being scared earlier that day and forcefully resist the impulse to pull her even closer. Moments later she's vast asleep. In my arms, dear world! Mine.
As I drift away, I recall the words I mumbled just before mystery mistress revealed her identity. "Please let it be my girl. Please."
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