Secrets Of Darkness

12 months is a long time..

2011-10-17T17:25:00.001+11:00

A lot can happen in a year.

Certainly I'd forgotten about this blog in that time and only really became reminded of it after happening to get an email about how many visitors I've gotten in the last week or so. I can't believe that people are still reading this after over twelve months of silence from me.

I had got to he point where I didn't really want to share everything with everyone in the world, but, then again I guess that we all go through times like that now and again.

So, back in September last year I made the last post and didn't really sign off at all from you all. I can only apologise for just vanishing, but things change in people's lives at times, and that change hit me too.

I managed to fight through the crappy stage of unemployment that I was sort of going through back then and got myself a real job in Feb this year. So I now work within the financial sector. I'm still kind of finding my feet in the new environment, but I'm paid well for what I do and hope to be moving into other areas of the business at some point.

Certainly this new found economic freedom has allowed me to relax a fair amount about life and have found that this has enabled me to focus on other things that I can change.. A main one of these is the medication levels I've been on for years for my bipolar.

As I've mentioned previously, the medications that I take are quite toxic to the liver and cause other problems such as lowered libido and reduced ability to be able to get, and sustain, erections.

So, its with some pleasure that I can say that I've weened down on the medications to the point where I've now been off them for about a week or so. With no real massive side effects. I can certainly feel my temper is a bit closer to reach the limits of, but that's something that I just need to work on more to control. Its not something that is completely out of reach, anx with fdoll by my side, I see no reason why I can't master that part of my life meaning I can finally be free of medications (not counting any sudden jaunts that may happen from time to time).

So, that's basically where I am at the moment, so I intend to give more updates in the future and hopefully also bring in my other interests into this blog.

Maybe, after being so long my Secrets Of Darkness, its almost like there is some light at the end of the tunnel..

Talk soon

Wanting To Share

2010-09-09T11:35:00.000+10:00

What the hell is this shit? Two posts in under a week? Holy hairy mother of fuck. What could be so important that I need to write again?

Well, to answer that question I need to refer back to the last post. Where I was complaining about that friend and his nature. It really wound me up yesterday, just thinking about the whole thing. I guess I’m anticipating a total meltdown on my part this coming Friday at the party. It’s not that I actually want to go postal, just sometimes a thought gets jammed in my head like a splinter and I just can’t shake it.

It went around and around in my mind, all the things that might happen that will piss me off, and that then started to piss me off to the point that I started to get one of my headaches. It got worse and worse and sent me into a bit of a bender. I got home and got into bed (at about 4:30 in the afternoon). I ended up tucking myself in and being asleep by 7pm. Waking up a few times during the evening and night and finding that my head was still pounding.

Before I actually went to sleep, I found myself doing something that I do whenever I get irate over things with someone – I cull them from my Facebook friends list. (This could, quite possibly, be the reason why my friends list is completely tiny compared to most people’s.)

I deleted the friend that was plaguing my mind, and also someone else added through this friend that I don’t really know anyway. I guess me reasoning behind it is that, sometimes, I want to be able to have a rant on my status field on Facebook. To say openly what is on my mind. It’s still quite a new thing for me to be able to be so open about my feelings and emotions, and I’m finding that FB is a really good outlet to let those people that care about me know that something is a little bit askew. It also serves to be invaluable as a tracking tool to see how my moods are going. The only problem with that, of course, being that if I am inhibited in what I can write due to the people that may see it, it means that my moods always look chipper and happy in hindsight. And that is a Bad Thing.

I know, from when I first met this friend, that he has major issues with (what he terms) “Swingers”. Now, I don’t see myself and fdoll as that at all – that’s a subculture of the kink scene, but swingers are usually in different events to the SM group. I must explain at this point that one of my fantasies, as I’ve brushed upon previously, is to share fdoll around with other men. To watch her get gangbanged perhaps, things like that. This friend, however, in talks we’ve had one-on-one has passed judgment upon “those kinds” of people. I’ve never openly admitted what I would like to do with fdoll to him, but it’s quite clear that he would have a freak out about it.

And that’s the issue, I think, that nags at me during the SM party when he’s there. I crave to drag fdoll up to one of the playrooms and share her around with strangers while I watch (and then fuck the living shit out of her afterwards), but there’s that horrible feeling that, at any second, he might walk in and either want to take part (I just couldn’t take that) or start into a lecture about why it shouldn’t be happening.

Ah well, my coffee appears to be empty, and my netbook battery is slowly dying. Best I walk home from the café , charge up and upload this to the blog.

Just one last thing: Someone in the Sydney, Australia gay/kink scene passed away last weekend and, although I didn’t personally know her, the news has personally touched those who knew her (fdoll being one, as well as some friends of ours). As far as I can tell, Mandy Rollins was much loved as a friend, DJ and all round party person. I can tell from the Facebook messages that she will be missed dearly by those around her. Mandy, may you find whatever peace you seek, wherever you are.

Kink parties without the kink

2010-09-07T11:51:00.000+10:00

Fuck you! It’s been a while since I posted a blog update. So what? What are you gonna do about it???

Ok, perhaps I should explain that start. I was up last night, unable to get to sleep for quite some time while fdoll slept away next to me in bed. So, I thought, why don’t I do a blog update? So I tried and it was the biggest pile of typed shit I’ve ever spat out. Literally 5-6 full paragraphs on how I always seem to start a blog update with “sorry for the break in updates” or “it’s been a while”. I was trying to work out through all those paragraphs the reasons on why I have such breaks in communications from time to time (ok, most of the time) and I think I started to get to a point – much like now – in that sometimes time just disappears for me. Almost like I go into a stasus (to use a sci-fi term) for a week here and there. For example, last week, the whole seven days seemed to occur within a 2 or 3 day period for me. Great on those occasions when you are really getting pissed off with how the week is going but, unfortunately, I don’t seem to have full control over it like that.

The month since our regular fetish party has basically passed and it’s happening again this Friday night. I’m looking forward to it as I always do, but I think I do need to explain a slight uncertainness I have for these nights lately. We started taking along a friend of ours (originally just a friend of fdoll’s) who isn’t really into the whole fetish scene. He doesn’t really get a lot of sexual action (to put it bluntly) and taking him to these events was meant to loosen him up and get him into a scene where people are more open about, well, getting some play. The problem is, from how I see it, is that he doesn’t really get involved in the whole thing, and doesn’t seem to want to understand the organization of the scene. I’ve tried, on a few occasions over meals at his house (one-on-one) to explain the Doms and subs, slaves, kinksters and all the other things that people get up to there, but he just doesn’t seem to want to understand it. I still have to sometimes interject and apologise on his behalf when he tries to tell a sub guy that he shouldn’t be kneeling on the floor near his Domme.

Now, the other thing with this is that I’m not sure if it’s just me that has the problem. You see, due to my nature (and BP) I don’t really drink very much. Usually 2 is my maximum, sometimes I don’t drink for a few weeks at all. I also stay well clear of party drugs of any kind – I don’t think that playing around with my brain chemistry is perhaps the best idea. So, usually, I’m the only sober one there. Perhaps this is why I feel the anguish that sometimes hits me at the party. The other problem is that doing this takes away my desire to fuck – which is a BAD thing on all counts.

This is, of course, assuming that he goes this week. Last couple of times he has complained that he’s tired and ends up frustrating fdoll because she wants him to come along. Although, he usually manages to then go out the following night on a bender that was already planned with other friends of his.

Hmmm. Maybe I just get shitty when things don’t go to plan in general. But I really want to have this Friday night as a bender myself. Not in the sense of being drunk, because that’s not my style. I just want to fuck the daylights out of fdoll in front of people, maybe have her suck or fuck someone else for my entertainment.. Maybe watch her dom another girl. The problem is, none of those things can happen for me with this other friend around.

Fdoll will most probably read this and say that I shouldn’t worry so much, this friend has “done so many other things already” etc etc. But I guess this is just how I am. I want him to have a good time, and if that good time happens at the fetish party – great.. I just have issues with having to break his ass to make him go and then spend the evening as a chaperone for him in a fetish world – he has even said a few times that he expects me to keep him safe and in line. Not sure if it was a joke, it may have been, but it ends up being true when he gets totally hammered.

I feel the need to insert a question at this juncture. Something to re-assure me into understanding that I can still go to the party with him in tow and not have it affect me in any way. But I just don’t know what question will achieve that – whether it be an actual question or just rhetorical.

I think I’ll end with a statement more than anything else. If he pulls out this Friday, I’m going to try and make sure that fdoll doesn’t pressure him to go. He’s a big boy, and if he doesn’t want to go to a place where he can have fun, then I refuse to put a downer on the night (or subsequent fetish parties) from him being a big baby about it.

(no doubt that’ll get fdoll annoyed – certainly not my intention, but I just can’t have our fetish fuckathon parties messed up anymore. They are something I really look forward to, but the sheen has been taken off slightly due to dragging along someone who’s not a kinkster into a kinky world)

Ups and Downs..

2010-08-22T22:42:00.000+10:00

The last couple of days, I've had to deal with both sides of my bipolar disorder in one of the most violent swings from good to bad.

On friday, I was craving mania. Like a drug addict chasing a high, I too miss the moments where the world seems more vibrant and colourful. The difference being in this case, a drug user needs to aquire a chemical to feel a high, I just need to stop taking the chemicals next to the bed morning and night.

The misty-eyed view I had that morning over breakfast with fdoll was one of the worst I've had. I say 'worst' simply because it made me almost seriously consider stopping the meds.

---

The next day, on the way home from work, I had a crushing blow of a depression hit me. I felt an overwhelming pain inside. I felt that I was going to fail at everything forever in my life. I have a famously-short attention span when it comes to learning new things to gain a qualification (but am wickedly good as self-learning - shame those qualifications don't count for shit), so I felt that I was never going to succeed at a high-profile career.

I also know that the facts about bipolar sufferers don't really put the odds in my favour. Most people with BP will be chronically under-employed or simply unemployed completely. Simply put, we can't take the rigidity that working life has. We need days to be able to stay in bed, and days where we do 3 jobs at once.

If only it were that easy.

Its strange that I should have something that I can equally desire to unleash within me, yet also hate and wish it banished from my body and mind.

Fuck. Life bites sometimes.

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

Is sex becoming extinct?

2010-08-15T11:56:00.000+10:00

There's so much to fill you guys in on with the break since my last post. Well, that could possibly be quite misleading - I always seem to forget what I've already told you all in previous posts and, I'm sure, have told you the same news multiple times in the past. I like to blame that on my issues with tracking time, but its not always the case. I think that, most of the time, I'm just forgetful.

I've just dropped fdoll off at work and have decided to treat myself to breakfast at a cafe near to home. I've chosen a different one to the usual cafe we frequent simply because I think that I want to relax this morning, and the other cafe always seems to be filled with unruly children and mothers who haven't the faintest idea of what their spawn are getting up to. Its usually loud and full, especially on the weekend. Also seems rather overpriced too. Shit, why do we go there at all? Haha.

The one I'm in now is nice and relaxed. There are mature conversations happening around me, and I can't hear a screaming child anywhere. Bliss.

On friday night, we went to our monthly SM party with a friend (and coworker of fdoll) and had a great night. Normally, I would have taken fdoll upstairs to a playroom (I think there was even a between-the-lines offer to be joined by our friend too), but nerves again got the better of me and I chickened out from public play. I really do need to get over this shit.

I think that the main reason that I'm still a little nervous in public is that I sometimes feel that I'm completely out of my depth around such developed practitioners of kink. Also, to me, sexual gratification is such a massive part of play that I feel different to most. I get told from time to time that not all SM play needs to end up in sex - but, for me, SM is the foreplay and should then turn into a good, rough fuck. Anything else is just tease.

Just to clarify, tease can be fun. In a playful kinda way. But, to me, too much teasing makes me start to just get grumpy.

Watching people play at the party sometimes makes me a little confused. For example, one girl was getting her ass spanked for a good 10-15mins. She was clearly enjoying it, and looked ready to get the living crap fucked out of her. She was giving the eye (during the spanking) to a number of guys (myself included) yet, at the end she just grinned and walked away without dragging one of the aformentioned guys with her. Maybe you guys can help me out with comments on this post? Do you find that you can just play in SM without sexual gratification during/afterwards? Either way (yes or no) what are your thoughts on it?

I've just thought of something else, is (perhaps) rough sex looked as a stepping stone for SM'ers to the caning and 'proper' SM world? I know of one Mistress that doesn't seem to ever have sex with the partners she plays with. Does that mean that she has attained a level of consciousness where she no longer requires a fucking? Or is it just that she's forgotten how good sex can be? What do you guys think?

Perhaps I don't play with fdoll in public that much because I somehow feel like I'm still a newbie in the scene because I still enjoy ramming my cock in her?

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

I feel like Atlas, after the world is lifted off him.

2010-07-23T11:42:00.000+10:00

It's been a rather good week this week. I went for an interview on monday for a casual job at a company that carries out advertising contracts. Basically, they send out motorcycle riders on Vespa scooters around the city. The Vespas all have trailers attached with mini billboards stood on them.

So, being a love of cars and motorbikes, I did well at the first interview on monday. Was asked back for an assesment ride on tuesday, and totally did awesomely again. And ended up having my first shift on the wednesday! :)

I spent 7hrs riding around Sydney's beaches, watching surfers and stopping to drink lattes and managed, in one day, to get paid more that I would get from my sickness benefit in two weeks. I've got lots more shift coming up too, so it's certainly going to be good for me. I get to work again and earn some money, yet I'm also away from an office, or call centre and actually ENJOYING a day's work.

Yesterday, I got my ass into gear and went into the city to confirm with the government office that my bankruptcy has gone through. I'd filed a while ago, and not heard anything. The girl in the office said all was good though, and they just had a backlog of applications.

Travelling home on the bus, I suddenly felt lighter. Like a massive weight has finally come off my back. I've had to deal with debt in general for so long that it was just slowly killing me, and to have the stress just taken away (albeit via filing for bankruptcy) is just magical for me right now.

This all got to the point where I was sat up in bed last night chatting with a slightly sleepy fdoll about how the last few days have changed my outlook on everything. I couldn't stop smiling - but, it was a different "can't stop smiling" than I'm used to. Usually, that is also matched with fast speech and ideas and plans all wrapped up into a solid manic episode coming on. But this was different. I was (and still am) just... happy.

I never actually knew what "just happy" every felt like until last night, I didn't know what I was missing.

Here's to life. And may all our days end as happy as mine did last night.

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

Choke on that, Bitch.

2010-07-16T17:57:00.003+10:00

Something happened today. Something that hasn't happened properly for far too long.

My cock got hard with sufficiently good timing that it was also fdoll's day off from work. Oh Yes. Prepare for a good post...

We'd spent the morning being rather geeky, me playing PC games with her watching her new addiction (The Tudors - some TV show that seems to be softcore porn in period costume lol) and I was walking past her when the urge struck me to grab her head and ram her face into my crotch. It was just a bit of a giggle at first with a couple of dry humps thrown in, but the twitches happened.

Grabbing hold of her hair by the fist-full I dragged her into the bedroom and threw her on the bed. She knelt on the mattress as I stood next to the bed and I then forced her into position. Holding her under her chin with one hand and by the hair with the other I slid my cock down her throat. It's been a while since I have been hard enough to get right down there, so the feeling was more than welcome by me. Slapping and lightly punching her ass and hips with my left hand, holding her head steady with my right as I thrust into her. Feeling her throat convulsing around the head of my cock only got me harder.

Throwing her hard onto her side I got onto the bed and ripped down her pants, with her on her side and hugging her knees I rammed right into her cunt without any worry. Evidently the throatfucking turned her on just as much as me, judging by how wet she was. The first thrust was deep and I instantly felt her cervix she yelped out in pain, which only made me want to go harder and harder. Make her fucking suffer my pent up sexual frustration - she'll LOVE it all.

I held tight to her hip and thrusted and rammed into her tight body with her gasping for breath and letting out occasional screams of pain when I went in too deep. Well, too deep for her maybe. It was the perfect depth from my point of view.

It didn't take long before all this stimulation was becoming too much, rolling onto my side, my pace quickened and I was fucking the hell out of my girl, my slut, she began cumming with perfect timing and I just couldn't hold back. Letting go and feeling myself cum and cum inside of her as her cunt convulsed and milked my cock at the same time.

Now, if you will excuse me... I've got a slut to rape. Again.

Zombie Level Set To Zero

2010-07-13T15:58:00.002+10:00

After an eventful and discussion-filled day yesterday, both fdoll and I came to the understanding that I would stop taking one of the two medications that I have been prescribed. The one I'm staying on is Sodium Valproate (a mood stabilizer) which has proved useful in reducing my manic episodes. But the one that I have now stopped is Zyprexa - mainly due to the results it is giving and also due to the doctor that prescribed it too me.

Now, as you know from previous posts, I'm not exactly a fan of my psychiatrist as he seems to be from the old school of treatment - dose seven shades of shit out of you until you either stop complaining, or turn into a walking zombie. Preferably both.

Well, I was verging on being a zombie - I couldn't get up before midday, spent the day practically motionless and without thoughts in my head. I had mentioned this to the doctor who took it as a sign of depression. He asked if I had had worse depression, "yes" I replied, "I've considered suicide on those occasions though". "Ah," says the doctor, "no need to worry then, you have pulled out of low periods before without intervention, no reason to change that now."

So what, I wonder, the fuck are the zombie-makers being prescribed to me for? In fact, they aren't even prescribed, he has a filing cabinet haphazardly filled with boxes of drugs. There is no order to the boxes, and each appointment results in me walking out with another box of medicinal goodness. He never asked how I was doing, he only ever asked how the medications are. Bells should have rang earlier in hindsight.

So, knowing that I was going to have a day of more normal thought patterns, I was in a frisky mood (despite being unable to get an erection - something plaguing me on the nasty pills) and gave fdoll a light spanking in the loungeroom, getting her to crawl into the bedroom where I spanked her cute, sexy ass red.. Applying a little lube I started to slip a finger inside her cunt.. Then another.. Another... Then I heard her say the words every man should hear at least once - I need your fist inside me..

Not in the mood for tease and withdrawl, I know that she needed this, so in my hand went. Urging back and forth.. Enjoying feeling her tight body wrap around my hand. I wanted so very much to fuck her there and then, to brutally force my cock into her. To cover her mouth with the hand that had just filled her cunt while she screamed in ecstacy. Perhaps another night function will return and she will get what has been a long time coming for her.

Dr Pointless and his Army Of Stupidity.

2010-07-12T11:02:00.002+10:00

I just got back from seeing my psychiatrist and I'm feeling rather angry with the whole situation with him. He seems to only want to dose me up on medications and never really takes the time (apart from 3-4mins) during the appointment to actually ask how I'm doing.

He, quite clearly, has issue with fdoll's chosen career path. When I have pointed out that we have no money to survive on, he suggests things that are completely out of order. Last week he told me to tell her to "get a couple more clients". What the fuck? Am I meant to be her pimp now? And WHERE are these clients coming from exactly? If they don't go to the house o' pain, how the hell is she meant to relieve them of cash? This week he suggests that she give up her current job and go back to her old job to support me instead. Perhaps this guy is actually taking more of the meds than he is actually giving out.

He said that he wanted to "speak with" her today and asked that she come in for the next appointment. He then suggested another appointment for friday so that he can talk with her. Both fdoll and I are of the opinion that he is going to try to tell her that she isnt supporting me enough etc etc.

When I said that I am getting into depressions to the point of not leaving the house for, practically, days on end, he simply suggested that I admit myself into the mental ward at the nearest hospital. What the fuck?

Note to self: get a second opinion on this mother fucker.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles (and a flogger)

2010-07-10T12:34:00.004+10:00

Just a shortish post for today while I sit up in bed with fdoll making me a cooked breakfast (I love breakfast in bed).

I've recently discovered that I am able to still claim UK citizenship, so there is a long term (3yrs) plan that I and fdoll now have to get over to live around the London area (most likely) so that I can indulge her wish of wanting to travel around europe - much easier when you can just drive or get a rail pass instead of spending thousands of AU$ on flights back and forth.

In all honesty, I'm really excited about the prospect of living back in England again. Just the little things get me smiling - my birthday back in summer instead of winter, and having christmas with snow are things that I've missed. Even the roads (and you guys know how much I love driving or riding a motorbike) are something that I've missed.

We won't be living near to my mother (obvious reasons are obvious) but I can see us visiting my sister and her family more than once.

I'm looking forward to all of this, even though it's years away. Damn time travelling slowly.

Why can't we just be able to have money and do it now?

Writer's Cock

2010-07-03T13:04:00.002+10:00

I've got a bit of a problem - besides all the obvious things going on in my life, I am finding it hard to write my autobiography.

I've used a great program to 'mindmap' (it's free from here if you are interested), and managed to set out pretty much my whole life into sections and subsections. I've wrote about the very early times but for some reason I just can't seem to keep going past those first formative years of my life. I'm not certain if it's because the topics are quite hard for me to still deal with, or perhaps it's because I feel that I can't write about things in the autobiography format as easily as I find writing in blog format.

In fact, perhaps that's it. I feel that I am in a therapy session with a great listener when I am in blogging mode and feel that I don't get judged in whatever I say. Certainly I've managed to cross a lot of boundaries in this blog with my thoughts that I honestly don't think that I could have done in any verbal way previously. Even now, I still get shy talking about some aspects of sex with fdoll.

I was just about to start a chapter in my book about porn and my fucked up relationship with it. I opened up MS Word and saved the blank page as the title, but just couldn't manage to start writing. I want to write about how I had porn thrust upon me early on (both in magazine and video format before I was 10 years old) but I just couldn't manage to write. I just seem to clam up and can't do it.

---

Changing the subject for the moment, my psychiatrist has changed the anti-psychotic medication that I'm taking due to it causing a significant lack of erections. Apparently the one I'm on now - even though it's a much bigger dosage - doesn't have those same side-effects. Today seemed to be a good sign as we had some good sex followed by a good throatfucking for fdoll in a second session an hour or so later (unheard of as of late).

fdoll has commented that she wants to have a threesome with a female friend of ours who we have played with before, and the idea has certainly bounced around my head more than once, knowing that fdoll is interested in it. Unfortunately, I've been so upset with not being able to get hard or be able to stay hard, I've not really been interested in the idea. No point in going to a concert if you are deaf, is there?

But now that things seem to be going a little bit better, I'm hoping that things will be working more regularly and I can really get back to writing some filth in this blog - even I am getting a bit "bleah" with the lack of sex in these pages.

Until next time ;)

Bzzzzbzzbzzzzzzzzbzzbzzzzzz

2010-07-02T12:43:00.000+10:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about where I want my life to go. What career do I want? Do I want a career at all?

Could it be that far too many people put so much pressure on themselves to be successful at certain stages of their lives, that we all constantly feel like we are behind the 8 ball? People seem to strive around me to be individuals and to have the most material things in their lives, but are they actually successful? I'm not too sure.

Take fashion for example, we (mostly) all want to look good and dress in the way that we feel suits who we are as individuals. Yet "fashion" is something that, by definition, has so many people wearing the same things. Then you get the non-conformists who dress in similar ways to each other to show that they aren't conforming to the mainstream. Its all very confusing.

Moving that thought to the working environment, as I'm now 30, I should be moving up into a management role by now, with a new house, iPhone and a BMW. But I'm not. Far from it. I think that I've realised why I've been stressed for so long in the working field - I'm just not suited to it. Following all that office politics game is not something that I've ever been good at (and have actually lost friends in refusing to do so). I need to be more relaxed and creative in my life.

I've realised that I don't really need the stress of rush hours, business meetings and the formality of the office anymore. Sure, I might need to do it here and there to support what I do want to do, but its not something that I want to do as a full time thing.

Which brings me to my desired job path - tattooing. Yes, yes, it sounds like a totally left field idea to suddenly want to do, but I've had an interest in tattooing for quite some time and did buy a couple of machines over a year ago but self doubt got in my head and I put it on the back burner to attempt to play the office promotion minefield - and we know how badly that went.

Over the past two days (it hurt like fuck causing limited time per session) I completed the basic outline for a thigh tattoo on myself. Its a japanese style koi. Fdoll, I think, it quite impressed for the first actual tattoo. As am I. I finally did it. The skin is broken and I'm hooked.

I want to do more work on it to complete the overall design and increase my technique level. Some close friends have already pledged to let me tattoo them, so I'm hoping that I can start off small and get a portfolio to then get a job in a tattoo shop. The idea of a job that is creative without management stresses (tattoo artists are usually freelance and the shop kinda sub-contracts to them), really appeals to me.

Anyway, just wanted to let you guys know how I'm doing for the moment.

:)

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

Pension time soon.

2010-06-17T12:28:00.004+10:00

I'm 30 years old tomorrow. But I certainly don't feel like I should be. I think that I went into some kind of time-freeze when I got married at 21 and now, having started living again, I feel like I should be able to carry on where I left off. Unfortunately, that's not the case. Father Time and Mother Nature certainly take care of that.

I took this picture just before I started writing this post to see what I thought of my eyes. Personally, I think that they look sad. But then again, I know all the things that they have seen - more than enough sadness and pain for a lifetime to be completely honest.

However, the flipside of my eyes is that so many people say that they are warm, and happy. I wonder at times if that's because I've just got good at hiding the bad times of my life. Then I start to think more about my life and I realise that, despite the harshness of the years, I do have things that bring a warmth to my soul. Fdoll is certainly first on that list. She is, without a single moment of hesitation or doubt, the best thing that has happened to me - I am thankful to have her every morning when I wake to find her next to me.

I am thankful for people that support me with all my most recent pressures. Friends are included in that, as are you guys. I check my blog stats regularly and seeing that so many of you are reading what I write gives me encouragement to keep going on this blog and that helps me. You are anonymous, yet I see your friendly faces giving me support, and I thank you all for that. I may not have massive amounts of comments, but that's ok :)

I'm told by many people that their 29th year of life was also hard for them to and it only gets better from 30 onwards, I hope that is the case because I really want to get back to writing short stories about fdoll (one I'm wrote before that you guys seemed to really enjoy), I want to get back to fucking the living crap out of her even more!

So, here's to life, love and kink.

I think I'm getting fat.

2010-06-08T18:49:00.002+10:00

I spoke to my sister last weekend using Skype. It's been the first time in a few years that we have seen each other, after only really recently regaining contact over the phone or emails. It was good to talk to her and see her two kids all grown up. She asked how I was and all the usual stuff that you talk about over the phone, and then I dropped the bombshell - I'm more sick than I had let on with her, and I'm not able to work for a while.

She took it all very well and asked about what medications I'm on and how fdoll is helping and all those things, but then she did something I didn't quite expect. She told me that after her second child she became quite depressed and also started noticing that she, at times, felt high at times. She started describing all the symptoms of mild bipolar. She then said that my mother is taking mood stabilizers.

Fuck me.

So, I guess that I can easily take a stab in the dark and say that this may very well be a family heirloom that no-one quite wants.

----------

In other news, my sex drive that seems to have been away on holiday for far too long has started to make a sporadic comeback. Sex with fdoll has started to become more regular again and the look on her face when I pull back the bedsheets to show a semi-hard on always gets me even further in the mood.

We are going to our regular monthly fetish party this friday night, but this time is special - it's the only just before my 30th birthday. I'm honestly hoping that all goes well in the cock-department so that I can truely ream fdoll in front on some of our friends and then see who wants a go of both of us!

Overall though, I'm glad that (even partially) I'm back in a head space that allows me to smile sometimes. I've missed not being able to do that.

I hope that this picture is accurate.

2010-06-02T18:28:00.003+10:00

I went to the government dept today with fdoll to sort out getting my payments and also a final assessment to see how long they dont want me in work for. I met with their psychologist who had looked over my case briefly and double checked a few things with me and said that I probably need to stay away from work until at least November.

Sounds great, and you'd think that I would be relieved to get that news. But, as it seems to be the case lately, for everything good, something bad always comes along to fill the void. They want to pay me less than $10 a day. That includes a "rent assist" program where they help me pay my half of the $450 a week rent that myself and fdoll have.

The worst part of all of this is that fdoll broke down in tears. I know just how hard the stress must be for her to cope with me in the position that we are in, and I really wish that I could just get rid of all the problems instantly so that she can smile. But, unfortunately, reality just isn't like that. I've never really understood why some people are blessed in this life, and others just get fucked. It's just simply not fair.

Seeing her in such a bad way made me pause and question whether or not I should just go back to work. I mean, I've been able to just hold it all in for this long - why not just toughen the fuck up and get back in there? But there's something nagging away in the back of my mind - I know that if I went back to work, my situation would get worse. I know that this pressure that we are currently under would pale in comparison to the depression that I would face if I went into the working world so soon. So I do need to take just a little more time off, at least in the short term.

I have, however, decided upon my project to do during this time off - I'm going to write an auto-biography. I think that it's about time that I face up to all my inner-demons and my past, my whole past, and write it all down. It could certainly help with dealing with the emotions and issues that are all built up inside me.

The other thing that is driving me insane today is a friend of ours is getting to the point where I feel a rage growing to stab him because he keeps calling and calling me, asking me to go over to his house to play computer games (he's 10 years older than me) when he knows that I have other things to do. He's called 11 times today alone. I've had to turn off my Blackberry just to get some alone time with my thoughts. Right now, I just need to have some silence with my emotions.. I need to be able to cry, to let out the depression - I've learned that keeping it bottled up just makes it worse.

It'll buff out.

2010-05-15T22:55:00.002+10:00

I had a truly amazing night's sleep last night - and, I might add, some of today as well. The sleep-inducing anti-psychotics that the hospital gave me worked a treat. 15mins after taking one, I was out like a light.

10 or maybe 11 hours later I woke up again, feeling VERY groggy! I honestly can't remember easily the last time that I actually slept through an entire night without waking up. I even had an afternoon nap (not after taking any tablets mind you) so perhaps my body and mind are getting some rest from the near three decades of hyper-alertness.

I'm really looking forward to being able to conquer this beast as much as I can so, if for nothing else, I can return to caning and/or flogging fdoll on a nightly (hourly?) basis.

I'm going to also, hopefully, be taking these three months off to achieve two things. Firstly, I seriously need to get fitter. I'm not completely out of shape at the moment, but I'm certainly not in a cut physical condition like I used to be a few years back. So that will be getting some attention from me. If I'm successful and actually pull this off, I'll even put before and after shots on this site, so you guys get to see what I look like. I'm sure you all have ideas, maybe comment and say if this is something you'd like me to do?

Secondly, I'm hoping that I can find something (or start to find something) to enable me to work without being in a regular job. I don't need to be rich, but I do need to be able to be rich in life.

Anyway, fdoll is now sleeping next to me - her cute little breathing patterns are something I can watch for hours. But I really should be getting some sleep. Big day of nothing but self-indulgence ahead for me tomorrow. I better get used to it - it's going to be like this until at least August.

Just got back from the appointment

2010-05-14T17:04:00.002+10:00

Well, just got back from the first appointment with the acute care team doctor who was a nice woman.

I'll be going into more appointments in the near future to sort out what medications I need to take. There may possibly be a short hospital stay in the future while they trial a few different things, but that's ok with me.

Meanwhile, they have provided me with a illness certificate for the next three months. So I will be at least away from the working world until August, which allows me some time to focus on me. And that's something I've never actually done - despite saying I will.

Many more updates to come regarding all the happenings with stabilising myself out, and hopefully - with 3 months of dedicated exercise - a more buff, sane me.

Here's to life. May I finally be successful in experiencing it.

The cusp of a breakdown..

2010-05-14T13:05:00.001+10:00

Bit more a regular update from me - and, for a while at least, they'll be a lot more regular. After my anxiety breakdown on wednesday, I explained to fdoll just how I've actually been feeling lately; just how intense the depressions have been getting, and how often. How regular the suicidal thoughts are lately, and also I told her (as the first person I've ever told) about my constant fear and, I suppose, paranoia that someone (or a group) are occasionally following me to possibly even attack me.

I even feel kind of stupid writing that here. I mean, I'm not always thinking that, but occasionally I'll put in a bit of an anti-surveillance driving path if a car has been behind me for a few too many kilometres.

All of this has taken it's toll, so, fdoll took me, in tears, to see my GP doctor. He called the local hospital's acute care team who came out that afternoon to assess me. Mainly because of the suicidal thoughts I have.

It's now been suggested that I need some serious medical help. The two lovely people from the acute care team also agreed that I need to take some time away from work.

Which leads me to today - I had a blood test this morning to check my levels of the medications I'm currently taking to make sure that they are actually doing something for me. I'm also most likely going to have to take some form of anti-depressent to get me out of this slump. And also an anti-psychotic to control the paranoia and suicidal thoughts. All this will be discussed later this afternoon when I go to the hospital to see a psychiatrist attached to the acute care team.

The other thing we did today was to get forms from the department that deals with support for unemployed, old age pensions and (for me) disability payments. Quite simply, I'm unable to work for quite some time until I can get myself in a calmer and stable frame of mind.

Fdoll is sat with me at the moment, attempting to fill out the mass amount of forms required for these payments. I am even feeling my anxiety levels rise just seeing all the boxes. I'm focussing on writing here instead, but in the corner of my eye I can see the paper with all the questions. So many fucking questions. So many pages.

I don't know what I'd do without her. Scratch that - I know exactly what I'd do.

Mission Aborted: Return To Base.

2010-05-12T09:27:00.002+10:00

Today has not been a very good day. It’s only 9am and I’ve already had a total meltdown. I arrived at that mailroom job that I was telling you guys about at 7:30 this morning, but I had been battling with a serious level of depression all morning. I made certain that I took my medications this morning, because I knew that it wasn’t going to be a fun day.

I awoke this morning with a level of dread more intense than before - I simply didn’t want to have to deal with members of the public today. Well, let me clarify that, I can be ok around people - the problems occur when I have to interact with any of them. I don’t mean that to sound as aloof as it does, it’s not that I see myself as superior in any way, I just feel that if I have to engage with anyone, it’s only a matter of time before they see my mask of normality is slipping and they see the wounded, depressed person that I really am.

So, there I was, in work and I was starting to feel the start of a major anxiety attack coming on. From what, I simply couldn’t say - I hadn’t, at that point, actually done anything apart from sort out newspapers into some plastic trays. I knew at that moment that I couldn’t stay today. I needed to escape. I called my manager (I am the only one in that time) and explained that I had a migraine - no need to explain that depression and anxiety are such a big part of my life - and she was more than willing to let me leave for the day.

I evacuated the building and, indeed, the suburb (about 10-15mins north of Sydney city by suburban train). And dived on the first train service south. At the station just north of the harbour I started to feel panicked again, and had to jump off the train. Overall, that wasn’t too much of a bad thing - it allowed me to have a 20min walk over the Sydney harbour bridge to clear my head somewhat.

After that, we get to where I am currently sat now - in a café in the financial district of the city. The kind of place where someone in a shirt with a Blackberry and a netbook computer (like me at the moment) fit in well. Hiding in plain sight. I look around at the men around me - most in expensive-looking suits and being followed by a herd of “yes men” nodding to their every utterance and I think to myself - am I made to fit into a working world?

For that matter, is anyone? I read this morning that the long hours that people are working are causing a great deal of health problems. And, do we really need to work that much? What do we get out of it? A Porsche perhaps? That’s over AU$300,000. that’s 6-7 years wages for some people. Do you really need a car that cost the same as an apartment? If yes - why?

Some people want to work hard to get higher in a corporation and have power and control. But then I realise something - they only have the power and control over those in the same company (or with links to that company). They have completely zero control over other strangers.

I am not completely certain why I went off on that tangent - but I’ll leave it in the post. Maybe I’ll come back to it later and it’ll make sense another day.

Fdoll is still at home sleeping. I let her sleep in this morning for a few reasons. Firstly, she’s on a late shift at work tonight (starting at 4pm). Secondly, she looked really cute. And lastly, because I just didn’t have the energy to hide how down I was feeling this morning. I know that may sound a little dishonest, but I just don’t want her to always see just how depressed I am some days. She hasw enough problems dealing with me most of the time anyway, and seeing me almost at the point of suicidal thoughts isn’t exactly a great thing to see in your partner before they head off to work and you wont see them for another 17-18 hours.

So, I’ve spent 30mins or so writing this post.. I’m just going to upload it and head home again to snuggle up to my girl. She really is a saint.

I can see Mel Gibson. And he looks PISSED.

2010-05-11T18:08:00.000+10:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about my illness. Well, my disability (for that really is what it is). And I've come to the conclusion that I really need to take control of the situation. But working isn't helping matters at the moment. Even though I've managed to land myself a temp job in a mailroom (of all places) I just keep being hit with a dose of massive depression and suicidal thoughts practically every morning. Having to then commute and also deal with a work environment where I have no real choice but to interact with others constantly is wearing me down.

I try my best everyday, even religiously taking my 1000mg a day of sodium valproate and 3600mg per day of St Johns Wart (recommended by a few different people), but it's getting to be too common. The reason I have to work full-time at the moment is that I have a massive debt that I've somehow become responsible from when I left my ex. It's over $200 a week which goes to, well, nowhere. But it's the reason I have to work. Going off an average wage, that means two days a week is spent working to pay off a debt that I didn't actually accumulate. Frankly, that's fucked.

So, after some research and talking it all over with fdoll - I'm considering filing for bankruptcy. I know that there's a stigma attached to that, and it also means I can't apply for any credit for 7 years (in this country) but, when you think about it, I've got a fucking massive debt hanging over me for the next 5 years anyway. And during that time I couldn't afford any more credit/debt anyway. It would also mean that I could reduce the amount of time I need to work each week (perhaps even going onto a disability payment for a short space of time in order to get myself into a good treatment program and hopefully tame this beast that I have to live with.

I feel that my grip on fun is slipping. I so desperately want to cane and/or flog my little slut every night, but I find that I just don't have the energy to do anything really after dealing with a working day. The anxiety attacks are getting harder to control/hide from people, and I can almost see a manic or depressive breakdown on the horizon like Mad Max thundering towards me in that loud-ass car that he drives. I need to take control of my financial life, to then allow me to control my emotional life a bit more. Hopefully, that way, I can throw some road spikes in front of Mad Max and halt the enevitable from happening.

I'll let you guys know how I go with it all.

As always, even if I don't say it, thanks for reading and supporting me with all this.

The devil doesn't always wear Prada..

2010-05-07T15:38:00.000+10:00

..sometimes she's an English ex-pat with wirey hair and a face that looks like she's been licking a cat's ass...

Wow, a lot has happened since my last post to you guys. The new job I was in turned into a complete nightmare, with the all-female team being all-bitches too. I was shunned from the team area to work in a non-related, menial job role that drove me insane.

My bipolar was disclosed to my she-devil manager by someone I confided in (my error, I need to trust no-one in the outside world). The result of that was a sudden complete downturn in the company's attitude towards me. They, obviously, avoided naming a mental disorder as the actual reason for wanting me gone, but they instead said that I wasn't performing well enough in the role that I was employed for (and still wasn't actually doing, as they had me located elsewhere).

I complained to HR who then joined forces with my manager and spent practically everyday giving me the shits. I was depressed every morning. I hated life and had no motivation. Again. Just like the last fucking job.

So, I chatted with fdoll and decided to control when I left the company, and on what grounds. I sent an email out and resigned on the spot.

Fuck em. They deserve to have nothing more in their lives than to endure the rotting stench of the arrogance they so willing bath in. (Wow, that was a harsh thing to spit out. Yet true all the same).

So, I'm kinda doing temp work here and there until I can figure out what I actually want to do with my life. Maybe a job that can give me some free time to study perhaps? I need to do something with my life to quench this constant need I have to make those around me, proud of the person that I am.

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

Let's Be Honest. I'm Not The Man I Was.

2010-04-25T15:08:00.005+10:00

Its Saturday. Or is it Sunday? *checks* It's Sunday. And I feel terrible.

I've been thinking lately that nothing is as it seems in my world - I've been having many paranoid delusions, to the point where I don't know what's real and what isn't.

I feel on the verge of crying almost everyday. Some days lately seem to involve thoughts of suicide, that worthless, nagging at my mind that I really don't deserve to take up this space in the universe.

I try to talk to fdoll about it all - and she is truly being a gem to me - but I've got to the point where I think that all I'm actually managing to do is to put more stress on her when she already has to deal with the chaos of my mood swings. I mean, I wanted to learn how to build and fly a helicopter earlier this week.

The swings into mania and depression are becoming more wild and rapid - and it really is wearing me down.

Looking back at my blog, I've realised that my posts are no longer about the things that fdoll and I get up to together, but instead, are filled with my thoughts of death and depression. Let's face it, that's not really fun for anyone to read.

Whenever I write here though, I feel that I am able to get out some of the emotions that I find too hard to verbalise. It becomes a way for me to start myself crying and then I can let it all out.. Become that wreck I need to be for a while. Sat in the corner, don't mind me, I wont be long.

But, of course, this is meant to be a happy blog, one that (no doubt) has previously got you excited to load into your browser and peruse. But lately, all it has become is an empty shell - much like it's owner.

I fear that I am no longer the fun blogger that you guys started to come to here to read about - I'm just a guy with a serious mental illness that happens to like SM. And that, I'm sure, isn't something any of you want to know about.

So, I've realised that I need to take these mentally disabled ranting elsewhere - somewhere more appropriate.

I did enjoy sharing the fun parts of my life with you all, I really did.. But right now, my life and sanity are at stake. And - I'm told - they are priceless.

Anti-zzzzzzz

2010-04-10T23:29:00.001+10:00

Insomnia strikes again. Its becoming a terrible thing to have to deal with - the want to go to sleep, the desire to slumber. But, the complete inability to switch off your mind.

Fdoll sleeps soundly next to me and I almost feel a pang of jealousy that she is, right now, in another world. Dreaming, no doubt, of us buying a puppy.

I wish I could sleep.

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

Small update...

2010-04-08T19:29:00.001+10:00

Just thought I'd let you guys know, I've just get home from the doctor's appointment, and I'm now back on the meds..

Here's hoping normality is nearby..

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

Things improved, and then took another nosedive.

2010-04-07T14:04:00.001+10:00

This got better for a few days after my last post, I was feeling good and thought the worst was over. But, after a night of insomnia (seemingly a sign that something with my moods is going to occur) the other night, I'm now in a world or paranoid thoughts and a depression ticking away in the background.

Frankly, I need help.

An appointment has been made for tomorrow, after I finish work, with my local family health doctor. I'm aiming for them to then refer me to a local psychiatrist. Clearly I need to get back on medications, but that's not something I can self-prescribe.

Perhaps I may need to take anti-d's as well, but I already know I can't take SSID types after being hospitalised last time for a severe reaction to them.

If anyone has had good stories of taking anti-depressants that AREN'T SSID type, could you email me? I'm looking for facts on how they work for you..

erratic.seasons@gmail.com

Thanks guys..

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

$$$

2010-04-01T08:24:00.001+11:00

Money.

Its said that it makes the world go around, although I'm sure physics professors would have something to say against that.

It does, however, make my world spin at the moment. And not in a good way.

I've got so many outgoings that my salary is practically 3/4 gone before the end of the first week of the pay month. And I have fuck all to show for it. The biggest killer of my funds has to be paying off a debt ran up by my ex. And this is meant to happen for another 4-4.5 years. Its just horrendous.

I think that money is causing most of my concerns lately. I have so many productive plans for my dollars - I'm proficient at stocktrading, for example - but I can never get enough capital to start investing. So that potential just sits there in front of me, mocking me. Watching that possible home-business sit there doing nothing is like watching a Miss Universe start abusing meth and getting a breast reduction. Its just torturous.

Doll has the occasional slow week due to the nature of her work, but her not having cash occasionally probably doesn't have the impact on me that she thinks it does. I mean, I'm not upset that she's a bit low on funds every so often, but I do get upset that I can't just throw some cash her way and replenish her cashflow.

I woke up feeling ok this morning, but thoughts with dollar signs in front of them started filling my head during the commute to work - and its taken my mood down again.

I started my usual stupid bipolar thought pattern - I could rob someone, I could win the lotto etc etc. Then I thought, I could jump off a building. But that's useless. None of those things are the answer to my problems.

The answer to my problem is to tighten up my proverbial belt, lessen outgoings. And after all that, start making a dent on saving up a starter amount of cash to trade with and invest.

I'm 30 in a matter of a few months - time to get my fucking life together.

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

A maze of dark tunnels.

2010-03-30T08:01:00.001+11:00

Half an hour before work starts, and I'm sat in my car. The doors locked, keeping the world at bay. I can be myself here for another few moments before I have to put on my mask and face everything.

But I've noticed that my mask is wearing thin. The strap that holds it on is starting to sag. I think its overuse that's done it.

My skin is pale, dry and loose. My eyelids droopy from exhaustion of keeping going - trudging along metre after metre. I feel it grating away at me. The constant battle of existence.

But I know, around one of these damp, dark corners, there's a light at the end of the tunnel. There's always light. And I just keep needing to keep upright, and keep walking towards the light (when I see it).

I can't just give up and stay sat in the darkness for eternity.

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

The topic that shall not be spoken about.

2010-03-29T15:52:00.000+11:00

Suicide.

Its a taboo subject for most, but an everyday struggle for far too many.

As an act, it's illegal (even though you can't obviously punish the person after the fact).

Life insurances usually have a clause meaning they don't need to pay if the insured person takes their own life. A sort of final insult to the person's remaining family/friends.

It's a sin in most (if not all - I've not researched) religions. And you are off to Hell if you feel that you can't go on in this world (what a great choice that is for the depressed Christian).

Its one of the biggest causes of death in the world. In fact, worldwide, its the leading cause of death for people under 35.

Just pause for a moment and consider that. Its a shocking statistic.

It's estimated that there are between 10 million and 20 million non-fatal suicide attempts every year, but that's a complete guess. No-one could ever be certain because of the stigma attached to it is stopping sufferers from coming forward to talk about it.

Most people who have never had the thought cross their minds assume suicide attempts are just a "cry for help". And, to a certain point, I guess they are. But, unfortunately, sometimes its simply giving in to constant feeling of worthlessness that grates at your senses for days on end during a depression.

I've considered it. A number of times actually. The thought usually bounces around my head at least once a week, sometimes even when I'm happy with life. Its a demon I've lived with for as long as I can remember.

I recall, as a kid (about 10years old, and I think younger too), I used to enjoy holding my breath underwater. A number of times I considered just staying there until I passed out and then drowning. I tried strangling myself with the curtain tiebacks when I got home from school one day (I remember that one clearly). Let's just say I'm shit at suicide plans!

Why am I writing this? Well, I'm thinking that turning my view on the feeling of wanting to die can provide me a clinical viewpoint. Normally, I can pigeonhole something when I'm in a clinical mind and get it out of my system, and that has already seemed to work here today.

*****************
If you, or someone you know is considering suicide, please seek assistance immediately. Take yourself, or your loved one, to the nearest hospital and advise them of the situation. They have protocols in place for such a situation.
*****************

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

No energy to think of a title.

2010-03-29T13:52:00.000+11:00

Apologies for the huge delay since I last updated, I forgot my own blog address. Not from a lack of interest, more from just having a disfunctional brain I think!

Its been quite a few weeks since I told you guys how I'm going, I think the last post was before we went camping. And that was ages ago.

I've been on a slow decline, now that I think about it, for a few weeks. Just a slippery slope that was hardly noticed by myself, never mind those around me. But, on reflection, I thinks its been there. Slowly taking me down a slippery path that only becomes obvious after I'd passed the point of no return.

Leaving me here now, realising that I've been in a real depression for a few days. Driving to work this morning, I cried for about 20 minutes as I drove through the city. I really hate days like these - the ones where people expect me to be my usual smiling self, yet inside I want to retreat from everything - work, bills, friends. Everything apart from doll.

She really is the only one that seems to get me lately. Sure, people give me their thoughts and words of encouragement (and they are all appreciated), but its only doll that sees the pain in my eyes when faced with living through a day that everyone else takes for granted.

When I get really depressed, as I am today, I feel like I'm going to throw up. Its like the world around me is moving at a pace that I just can't keep up with, and it makes me feel physically sick.

I don't feel hungry, and want to sleep for days on end.

I did, however, purchase a set of weights a week ago or so, and I'm doing my best to keep at them on a daily basis - its just hard to motivate yourself when you are suprised that you even made it through a day, come the evening.

Doll is being awesome though, she's giving me the headspace I need to recover from this, but I think I need to hit rock bottom tonight. I've been holding back because whenever that happens, I usually end up exhausted for days. But, I don't think I can avoid it anymore, I have to do it before the suicide thoughts mount up too high.

Talk soon.

---
emails are welcome:
erratic.seasons@gmail.com

Pocket Rockets...

2010-01-31T17:48:00.001+11:00

Its a sunny day where I am, and life feels good.. My old job let me leave early without penalty, so I've got a week to do whatever I feel like.

Pretty much, that's gonna be nothing.

But I do have to write about the other night that I and fuckdoll had. Firstly, we both enjoy playing poker - mainly texas hold'em online (I'm beginning to wipe the floor with the other users on Facebook's Zynga poker - who knows, we may have played a hand together!). Sometimes, we play 5 card draw poker at a friend's place.. Its a small $20 buy in and maximum $2 bets, nothing major.

The only thing that can sometimes annoy the crap out of me when playing online facebook poker is that, because its not real money, you can get idiots on there that just go "all in" for every hand. That kind of play is just irritating.

That's the good thing about playing for money with friends - people respect the bets, and bluffs work.

Until the other night.

Two of the usual guys brought their other halfs with them, and the only other time that we've played with newbies resulted in me losing all smiles as well as my $20 buy in. But, we agreed.

Not only did the girls (not fuckdoll, she's one of the guys for such an event) not pay for their own buy ins, but they were constantly showing their hands to the people that had folded next to them and getting constant help. One of them consistantly got good hands too. Which is cool. But I figured I'd break her flow a little with a bluff hand, constantly raising.. Of course, the chips didn't represent her money, and the action of a bluff meant nothing to her and she just kept upping it. I had an OK hand, so I went for it, again, she took me, but only with a slightly better two pair.

Then she played a bit dumb and gloated a tiny but. That was the end of smiles from me.

Fuckdoll wasn't happy, I tried my hardest to explain that to lose at, say, Blackjack is fine. Because its a set of rules. To lose at poker partly from hands and partly from bluffs is also fine, because the other players understand what the sudden raise could mean (it could be an awesome hand, or a total fake. But to lose to someone without that other person understanding anything that just happened drives me insane.

I just have a bit of an anger issue really, I did control it to the point of not shouting at them or saying something I'd regret, but, I have decided never to play with new-starters again. Its just too much stress - and I need to lower my stress levels so I don't explode...

---

I can't even spell zzzzz... Never mind say it.

2010-01-29T07:17:00.001+11:00

I lie in bed. Awake. Its seven am, and my eyes have been open for 4 hours already.

Fucking brain, waking up packed full of alpha waves.

Thoughts fly into my head and out the other side. Some with intense processing, others without so much as a cursory glance.

I feel today is a day where I may only be physically part of the world of the living. I function. I operate. I engage in conversation.

But I am not here.

I'm not anywhere.

---

Ladies, Gentlemen, Kinksters around the world...

2010-01-22T20:34:00.000+11:00

I. Have. A. New. Job.

Oh, fuck, yessssssss...

I start in a couple of weeks, with better conditions, a better firm, office hours and nearer to home. And I now get weekends to myself..

Love

Life

---

Empty wallets, fast cars, holidays to Europe and wanting more time in a day.

2010-01-17T14:00:00.001+11:00

Just a little update on how things are going so far:

A few things have happened since my last update. First up, I've started applying for some jobs to progress my current position away from the company in which I work. Things are going well there, I've had a couple of interviews for one job, and another is showing interest in me going to them. That one pays AU$5k more a year than the first one, and the work seems more interesting to me, hopefully I'll be able to succeed and get that job. It'd certainly help with paying off loans and having money left over to, you know, survive with afterwards!

In other news, I'm going to be selling my motorbike in the next couple of days. I bought a targa-top red sports car a few days back, as shopping with the bike was proving to be rather difficult. Also, we where having to take cabs to regular fetish parties we attend, meaning more expenditure on something avoidable. As well as that, I now down get shit-wet through when it rains and don't arrive at places with helmet hair. Win!

Fuckdoll is certainly enjoying the car and, secretly, I know that she prefers it over the bike (which she also enjoyed).

Meanwhile, I've been lolling around (like today) with no money as my cashflow has a nice big blockage in it - this should be rectified once the bike is sold, but it kills me to not have cash for simple things.

It reminds me of being younger, when I didn't have any money of my own.

I really just want to get on top of things again, and have some surplus cash left over so that I can get back into stock and fund investments. I really want to provide more for fuckdoll so she doesn't have to push herself at work when she doesn't feel like it.

I guess its a throwback to my knowledge of her previous partner (who, strangely, had the exact same name as myself). He worked in a high-paying job and had the nice apartment and car and disposable income so she didn't need to work (from what I've worked out). And, as much as it shouldn't, I feel a little inferior at times to that.

I know I really shouldn't - as she's pointed out to me, if she just wanted money, she'd still be with him. Which is a good point, I know. But I still have a slight inferiority complex on occasion, about a number of things (all stemming back, in a Freudian way, to my childhood).

It happenned again yesterday. We were heading home in the car. Roof off, music playing. And a guy I recognise from nearby to where we live was infront of us in his bright yellow convertable lamborghini. I know that he's overweight. I know that he wears a hat to cover his bald head. And I know that he's in the last throws of a midlife crisis. But yet I still feel inferior because he has more money than I do.

Which is something, I think, stems to men's magazines. I don't mean porn mags, I mean Men's Health and the like. There was one issue, I recall, that suggested some clothes to wear to the gym, then to the office and then to drinks afterwards. Now, the things they listed added up to over $5000. For one fucking day. I mean, fuck, are they serious?!

But I know men DO have that level of disposable income. And it makes me cringe. I wish I had the money to afford it (not that I would be that stupid to buy in that manner), but I would like to be able to do it if I so wished. I wish I could afford flights back to England for myself and fuckdoll for a holiday.

Ultimately, I wish I could be self employed, trading stocks (that I know all too well) and working from home.

But the reason for all that isn't just because I want a lot of money. I just wish I could spend more time with my partner for life.

I love you baby.

---

A small rant about politics, laws and whacking off on the internet.

2010-01-03T15:21:00.001+11:00

I sit on the sofa hearing the footsteps of my neighbours that share the apartment block with me outside, going about their business. There are only six apartments in the building and yet I don't really know a thing about them. I park my motorcycle next to a red Mazda practically everyday, yet I've never seen who the person is that drives it. Which means, by definition, that they have most likely never seen me arrive or pull away of a vehicle that has, for a number of months, defined me to other road users.

We all work within companies, whether we are employed there or are owners of them ourselves. Yet we all love and hate customers. Those customers that are, again by definition, ourselves. We are a customer more times in our existence than we are behind the counter. Yet we still become intolerant to their needs. Well, I've been known to anyway.

I manage, just like the rest of society, to demand freedom in my life. But I still panic and check my speed when there's a police car nearby. I see myself as a liberal-thinker in everything, and want people to do as they wish as long as they don't break the law. But I know that me saying that is totally fruitless.

I have spent the last few hours since dropping fuckdoll off at work, expanding my mind. Not through chemicals or such. But through documentaries and comedians that push boundaries. I like to do this from time to time to make me remember that I am alive. That I am not a sheep or worker ant to be dictated to by the mainstream, by the self-righteous or by the "norms" of society.

Yet, it seems that I am not as in control as I perceived.

We can all, as members of the world society, condem governments that controls its people through government-controlled news and restricted access to the internet (for example). But I think the only thing that the government is guilty of (in the eyes of it's peers) is bad PR.

The Australian government has recently, and quietly I might add, passed a law to restrict it's people's access to websites that it deems "unsuitable for classification". The standard list includes child pornography (of which, I am so overtly against in any form - the people who do such things should be drawn and quartered), and drug use (amongst other things that people wouldn't look for and then suddenly be offended by what they find).

Now, I'm not usually a political person in such an open forum, but I truly believe that I don't need to be saved by a bunch of limp-wristed pricks in government. This is also the same country that declared the small area that the government meet in as a different state to the rest of the country. And then they allow things in that area for the politicians that aren't allowed elsewhere (certain levels of pornography, fireworks etc). So, the politicians are allowed to see magazine racks full of articles about wearing rubber stockings while being flogged but I can't view information on the price of dope in another country? Or potentially be unable to watch something on an SM site?

Why?

Is it because, perhaps, they are so hell-bent in their own religious faith that they think that they are going to go to hell because they fucked their secretary up the ass over the office desk? Or maybe they feel bad that they don't have the spine to crack down upon all the priests and vicars that abuse alterboys right after holding the sunday mass that the politician attends with their families? Maybe if they save 20 million, hard-working, free-thinking Australians from having the chance to masturbate over a consenting adult engaging in a sexual act with another consenting adult then they will have their chance at the pearly gates?

Which brings me to stupid laws surrounding BDSM in this country. Who here thinks that SM is perfectly acceptable between adults that enjoy it? Come on, raise your free hands!

The courts in this country actually say it's not. They say that sex needs to be between CONSENTING and SANE adults. Yet they also say that no sane person can consent to an act that will cause them discomfort or pain. Yep, that's right.. If you are an Australian masochist, your government has declared that you are insane.

Wow.

A rather sweeping declaration from a group of people that, by their very nature also indulge in a bit of slap and tickle and lewd behaviour at the best of times.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to climb off my soap box and do what nature wanted me to do with my life - whatever I fucking want (as long as I don't break any laws).

---

Happy New Year, ya dirty buggers!

2010-01-02T13:18:00.000+11:00

Just wanted to say a very happy new year to all my readers and all the best for 2010 (I won't wish a year of complete blissful happiness, because with sad times, the happy times aren't as fulfilling).

My write up of the NYE fetish party we attended will follow shortly, once my hangover goes away!

Much love,

Me and fuckdoll x

---

It returns..

2009-12-24T10:02:00.001+11:00

Is had been a long time since the darkness had overcome his personality, but he could feel it coming on. The snide remarks by backstabbing co-workers and callous emails to managers reporting "inappropriate" behaviour had pushed him over the edge.

The behaviour was anything but different. He said the word "fuck" at his desk. And since he, and all the managers, got the email singling him out, he had heard at least 8 other people say the same word a number of times within 20 minutes.

But he knew what was happening now - the darkness of the mania had started to creep in. Whispering in his ear to silence the backstabber forever with an ironic killing. Stab him in the back - literally. Pummel his back with knife strikes until the dirty, horrid personality has left this world.

But no, that would be too poetic. Too easy to read into. Too soon after the email was sent. Too obviously revenge.

So other thoughts went through his mind. A house robbery gone wrong? A mugging gone awry? All these things happen day to day and no-one bats an eyelid.

Maybe a large amount of lime could get rid of the body, but how long could that take?

Work is calling, but he doesn't want to answer. The anger is too intense. Too focussed and is begging to be unleashed upon something.. Someone.

The darkness is warm, like a blanket of nettles.

How can something that is so comforting be so painful to endure...?

---

A sunny day outside, but cloudy in my mind.

2009-12-17T13:05:00.000+11:00

I'm spending my day at work today battling with a small rage that is simmering just below the surface of me. I hope that writing about it will either cool it off, or locate the cause(s) of the problem. Or both.

It started as soon as I got to work this morning. Yes, yes, I know I said I was going to be getting another job, but what with the economic downturn that the world has faced lately, I figured its best that I wait until after the new year and then attack the situation head on.

Obviously my issue is work-related. It certainly isn't anything at home. I actually mentioned last night to fuckdoll that its such a good feeling to be able to sit at home or in a cafe, and know that there isn't a single secret that I keep from her. Its something that in previous years, I would have had to deal with on a 24/7 basis.

The reason for that happening then was that I had to lead a second, secret life in order to get all the desires I had fulfilled (not just sexual ones). But the obvious flipside to that happening was that I had to spend all the rest of my time working out way to afford the time and money involved in running my alter ego.

Its so good now that I have everything that I need at home with my fuckdoll. Its certainly causing me to be a lot more relaxed about life.

So, back on track, what is it that I am so frustrated about? Well, there's only two things I can think of.

Firstly, I'm frustrated with myself that I've been employed by this company for 20% of my life, and I've got precisely nowhere.

Secondly, I'm frustrated with the company that I've been employed by it for 20% of my life, and I've got precisely nowhere.

Its just something that, unfortunately I inflict on you readers until I get myself into a job that doesn't feel like work all the fucking time.

Or at least somewhere that doesn't make me want to cut my wrists just to escape the downtrodden level of pondscum that I am here.

Mood status - zero. A neutral mood cos I'm in work. Ask me when I'm not here and the number will go up. When I'm here, the shitty factor brings me crashing back down to zero.

Arse.

---

Hands up, who's a dumbass? :P

2009-12-13T13:18:00.000+11:00

I wonder sometimes if its me. I seem the common denominator when it comes to people being annoying. I'M always the one that's annoyed. Could it be, perhaps, that I just don't suffer fools gladly.

What a stupid phrase. To "suffer fools gladly". Who the fuck does? And how can you gladly suffer something. Unless of course you are a masochist. But you'd have to be one who seriously into really fucked up treatment, you know, to actually want a total moron to just hang around and annoy you.

I guess its just that people who are either horrendously inconsiderate or unfailingly idiotic just really push my buttons. I find myself witnessing the evidence of their dumbness and carefully considering what a tack hammer would look like hanging out the side of one of their temples.

But then I notice the multitude of websites around that poke fun at stupid actions of people, TV programs about stupid acts or stupid quotes of famous people (Mariah Carey's being one "when I look at a starving African child I get so mad.. I mean, I'd kill to be that thin").

So, I think to myself, if the world enjoys laughing at stupid people in society, where are the stupid people from? There are simply more dumb things done daily around the world than there seems to be dumb people.

The only conclusion I can come up with is that idiocy has got to the stupendously high levels that some dumb people don't know that they are dumb, and actively put themselves in the "normal" bracket in order to laugh at the other idiots around.

Maybe.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go lock myself out of my car, and then be run over by it. Or something.

Mood today: +2, feelin goooooood..

---

Welcome home..

2009-11-29T13:03:00.001+11:00

Yesterday was a day filled with thoughts while I was in the office. I found flashes of fantasy entering my mind's eye. Imagining watching fuckdoll lying on her back, legs wrapped around another man's waist with her hands clutching his ass as he pumps his cum inside of her. Just writing that now has sent my cock twitching to the sky.

I love the thought of sharing her around, and I hope that we can achieve that for both sides at some point in the future, but I know its not something we can rush into too quickly, a lot of stability is needed first.

I relayed this thought to fuckdoll during the day and she obviously liked the idea.

Later in the day, I directed her to make sure that there is a beer waiting for me, chilled and opened for when I came through the apartment door. She did just that, and more..

Coming home I walked through the door to see her kneeling before me. Her hair in a ponytail, her collar locked into its rightful place. Her top was a pink and black striped number with matching over the knee socks and her shoes that have padlocks locking them on. She looked up at me and was holding a freshly opened bottle of beer for me. Perfect.

I put down my helmet and bike jacket and took the beer, instructing her to take off my shoes and socks for me, followed by my jeans and underwear. She obviously knew what was coming when she saw that my cock was solid in such a short space of time. She started sucking me and after a few seconds, I pulled her head forward to slide my cock deep down into her throat.

Its something I've been working on with her - training her to be able to fully deep throat me, not an easy task I'd imagine with over 9inches but she copes very well. She's getting much better at it lately.

I told her to stay with me down her throat and for her to use her tongue on me at the same time. And then I removed my hands from her head. Her eyes were watering slightly as she wrapped her warm tongue around my cock, the slight gagging convulsions of her throat were squeezing my cock in a wonderful way but I knew she needed air.

Pulling out of her mouth, I instructed her to get on her knees.. I got her to reach back and hold onto the heels of her shoes and then I grabbed hold of her hair as I slid inside her soaking wet cunt. She was now just balancing on her knees, so all I had to do was pull back of her hair to slide inside her, or relax my grip to slide out a little.. Within a few thrusts, she was wincing as I thumped the end of my cock all the way into her pussy, I could feel it hitting her cervix as she started to cry a little and tell me I was hurting her. Which only made it better.

I could feel my cock harden even more and grow a little longer and thicker as I grabbed hold of her hips and pounded deeper and harder inside of her soaking wet cunt. Her animal growls heightening as I was reaching orgasm. I grabbed hold tighter and thrust into her, physically unable to go deeper as I came the hardest I have for the last few days.

After regaining my breath, I was unlocking her shoes and noticed large drops of my cum leaking out of her onto the wooden floor. I instructed her to kneel down and lick it up.

What a wonderful fucking sight.

---

Being a function, not a person.

2009-11-23T17:41:00.001+11:00

I believe alcoholics call it a "moment of clarity". That defining moment in time when everything seems to be transparent. Where you see everything about a situation, or a life experience, that you are currently facing.

I've a few in my life. One where I knew I had to cut off contact with my mother for reasons I won't talk about now. Another, more recent example, was when I realised (while sat in a resturant) that I had to leave my wife.

I've just had another one.

In the company in which I work (yes, I know, I've complained about here a lot, but just hear me out), we get an annonymous survey to fill out every year. The purpose of this survey is meant to be so that the corporation can assess the happiness of its workforce and change policies accordingly. However, this company being the one it is, its never that simple.

For example, last year, they assessed one department earlier than usual. The responses where all positive (so they reported), and one week later, they sacked 1/3 of that department's workforce. Obviously the reason for the early survey was that the company knew that the reduction in headcount would lower moral and fuck up the survey results.

To point such an obvious action in this company gets you labelled with the "negative" tag, and you can kiss your career goodbye. And this is part of my issue.

I've been in this company for almost 6yrs. And got nowhere. Same pay grade as when I started. Same boring tasks 38hrs a week.

If my performance drops, they jump around and panic. If my stats exceed what they want, they claim I'm being dodgy in my work practices and demand I prove my innocence. Its patheticly unrewarding.

My manager has worked for the company for two years and has no management skills or technical ability (and for a manager of a technical team, you'd how that they had one of those two things).

So, back to my moment of clarity: I have managed to reach as far as my career will go in this company. Christ, I reached my career peak the first day I started. I've never surpassed that lowly level of pond-scum.

Even a once close friend of mine became "one of them" and started to regurgitate the same indoctinated shit that everyone else says when they can't think outside what the company tells them.

I'm one of those faceless people that "normal" people shout at. Call centre workers, cleaners, waitresses in a roadside cafe, garbage collectors.. we are all the same. We all serve a purpose and are viewed as week sub-humans that deserve no ounce of respect from our fellow man. We lead a life of mundane repetition that's leads us nowhere.

I remember a piece of street-art I saw in the city a couple of years ago. It was a simple stencil spraypainted on the ground, and it said a few simple words:

Work. Consume. Die.

How very true for some of us. I get paid to listen to complaints and people shouting and screaming at me because something the company bought on the cheap doesn't work. I then have to cope with the draconian policies and procedures the company has put in place to maximise profits, and when the customer expresses their unhappiness at this, I am rated on it. If they aren't happy with the way I explain that I can't help, the company tells me I'm not friendly enough. You point out that the system and procedures are why I could help the customer, but then you are labelled "negative". Its impossible to win.

I've realised that my life in this company is one of pointless boredom with no chance of a new challenge. I had a slight whiff of a suicidal thought cross across my mind before writing this post, but that has now passed. I think it was the realisation that for 20% of my life, I've been employed by a company that doesn't care about me, my life or my career.

I serve no purpose in my working life as long as I am surrounded by these idiots who exist behind fake smiles, corporate propaganda and a constant inability to just make a decision on their own.

I need a work/life balance. And this place just doesn't support it.

I need somewhere new. I need something exciting. I need to stop sitting around complaining and actually do it.

---

The world has opened up, I no longer have tunnel vision..

2009-11-19T17:52:00.000+11:00

I can feel my mood is rising a little compared to yesterday's grounding. I think I've been a little stressed lately that I am not able to be the Dom that fuckdoll deserves to have. But I also thing that that feeling is mainly due my bipolar causing such a crashing blow my self-confidence.

Whenever I am in a low depression, everything feels like its my fault, I don't feel motivated to do anything and I hear my internal voice saying that eveything is going wrong because I exist. "Wouldn't it just be better if you did everyone a favour and killed yourself...?".

That's a question my bipolar asks me on a far too regular occurance.

However, today is different. Its a wonderful warm summer's day (Australia is backwards and you actually get sunburned putting up the xmas tree, something I've still not quite got used to). Me and fuckdoll walked down to our local beach for some sun-baking and I even delved into the wickedly choppy ocean for a dabble at swimming - which just ended up being a farce of me trying to not drown.

I can feel a mild sun burn on my shoulders under my tshirt and I know that it will turn a few shades darker in a couple of days. We are heading back tomorrow morning for more. But hopefully the swell will be less vicious.

This morning, after the fight with the ocean I managed to obliterate my glasses (I'm blind without them). I sat there in total panic, I couldn't focus on my fuckdoll, only sat on the other side of the table. She ran over the road from the cafe we were sat at, and got me a set of contact lenses within minutes, and my sight was restored. But, something else was too - I felt free. I could see everything. No frames giving me only clear sight when looking directly forwards. It was almost a symbolism for how fuckdoll is opening my eyes in other ways too - she just literally did it for real this morning.

(And a big thank you to the optician who donated the contact lenses without charge - you really saved my sanity)

I sit here on my 530pm lunch break (I'm beginning to detest shift work) listening to my collection of Cafe Del Mar on my trusty iPod. And I can't help but think that I want a more normal job. I used to enjoy the shift work because it gave me free time in which I could visit fuckdoll, but now that we are together all the time, its starting to piss me off. I want to spend more time with her.

Mood rating: -1.5. Not great, but relatively, I'm on cloud nine today..

---

Isn't doing things right, it seems..

2009-11-19T00:40:00.000+11:00

Mood level: -2.8.. And yet still, it deepens.

---

Emotional stockmarket crash, here I come.

2009-11-17T15:30:00.001+11:00

I've got a killer migraine today. And I'm sliding down a slope into a depression. I hate the feeling of it coming on - just helplessness, the more I fight to escape it, the harder its clutches grasp onto me, pulling me in faster and harder.

Over breakfast, fuckdoll said that we can't have me going into a depression at the moment. We've got too many things to sort out for the new apartment. I know hat she wasn't being insensitive with her comment though - she was just stating a fact. Its hard to deal with me in a depression when we have other matters to attend to.

The problem with my depressions is that, when they start to come on, the world seems to conspire against me in an effort to drive me over the edge. This time is no exception.

I recently moved teams (long story, my old manager was a cunt), and found that with my move, I had a lot less stress and managed to really ramp up my productivity. I was taking 3 to 4 times the number of calls I took in the old team. You would think that me being back to how I was a couple of years ago would be welcomed, but you'd be wrong with that assumption.

I've been asked to fill out online forms for everything I do. If I transfer a call, I have to ask the address where the person is calling from. If they are on a mobile phone, I have to run a scan on the network and find their location and then record that. All this for a customer that came through to the wrong department.

They also want me to validate any call that I don't transfer because they are suggesting that I'm not doing my job properly. They, of course, don't have any evidence of this happening (because its not), but its the basic corporate rule of "guilty until proven guilty". And no, that's not a typo. They basically assume your guilt, and then allocate resources to attempting to back up their assumptions.

They constantly tell the employees that they want us to give a human element to our calls, but if our statistics are out of the set-in-stone guidelines, they come down on you like a ton of bricks. What they actually want is a human touch with robotic precision. As stupid as that sounds.

Mood at the moment: -2, really on a downward slope. Just don't tell anyone.

---

I wanna be one of the four out of five.

2009-11-09T11:42:00.000+11:00

The migraine from yesterday has passed and I'm at work as usual today. The sun is bright and warm, and I've had a great morning exercise walk past the beach this morning with fuckdoll. I dropped her off at work and rode on to the office.

Riding my motorbike always allows my brain a chance to clear itself of any cloudy areas and gives me a chance to reflect on the things that happen in my life. One thing that happened recently is that we watched a documentary by Stephen Fry (British actor, google him if you aren't sure) who, like myself, suffers from bipolar. He spoke openly about the disability and introduced other famous people to also deal with BP on a daily basis. Carrie Fisher was one, and Richard Dryfuss was another). To see these well-known faces talking about the same struggles I face all the time made me open up inside.

I didn't tell fuckdoll what I was thinking, not because I was hiding it, simply because I wasn't sure where I stood on my thoughts. I felt like I needed to cry to release the tension, but thats something I find hard to do on most occasions. It wasn't a sad feeling though, it was because of the relief I felt wash over me.

I've always had this nagging feeling that I don't have BP. That I am just a complete fuck-up instead. That I feel depressed at times because that's just life. You see, I've never actually been able to talk with another BP sufferer face-to-face. I've never been able to rid myself of the concerns I have about me.

Sure, if you ask 10 people if they have BP, easily half will say they do (no research to back this claim up, but please ask people and email me to see what you found!). The reason I think that people say they have it (but have never been medicated) is because they are "stress puppies" and/or drama queens. They love the attention and to say you have such varied mood swings sounds, well, to some idiots - it sounds kinda cool.

The thing is, its not cool at all. 20% of real bipolar sufferers will commit suicide. That's one in five. So if I meet four other BP people, chances are, one of us is going building jumping, or going for "the swim that needs no towel".

What a fucking disturbing thought.

Another 20% will need to be hospitalised for a duration at some point in their lives due to either a depressive state (that was almost me when I had my breakdown and was diagnosed). 40% will never function to their full potential and will remain in a boring job all their lives (hello, call centre worker right here for 6yrs).

And its those stats from the program that got me thinking. Is my BP that is the thing that's kept me in my crappy job for so many years without progressing upwards while those idiots around me go further? Maybe.

If this was a Hollywood movie, I'd now say how I'm not "gonna let it beat me" and start running up the city hall steps throwing punches at thin air. But its not. This is the cold light of day reality we are dealing with here. And Bipolar is something you survive with, not something you live with.

I'm just gratefull that I have readers for this blog - it makes me feel like others that don't even know me care, even just a little bit.

Also, no matter what I post about. I'm going to start putting a mood scale at the bottom of each post so I can track myself. Hope you don't mind.

0 (zero) is "normal"
+3 is full mania (I wanna be a superhero vigilante and ride around on a chopper - and, yes, that is actually something I've said before)
-3 is full depressive state (meaning I'm thinking about death a little too much)

Mood at the moment: a little depressed -1

---

Migraine.

2009-11-08T20:56:00.000+11:00

I lie on the sofa as I write this post. The lights dimmed and my sub making dinner for us both. It sounds romantic, but the trth is that I have a crushing headache. A migraine from bipolar hell.

I didn't get these headaches when I was on my medication, and had honestly forgotten how much they impact me when they decide to strike. Wincing at the smallest of noises, feeling constantly sick amongst other horrid effects.

But, as I said to fuckdoll a few moments ago, this is part of me. Its part of bipolar for a small amount of sufferers too.

This is more of a record for me, so I can keep track of my progress in stopping my meds..

---

Awesome News!!

2009-11-03T13:48:00.000+11:00

WE GOT AN APARTMENT OF OUR OWN!!

WOOHOOOO!!!

LET THE SORDID BEHAVIOUR BEGIN!!!!

---

Humans are disposable.. Just don't get a hard-on from hitting one of them..

2009-10-11T06:29:00.000+11:00

Its now 05.49am and I can't sleep. I feel tired but coming off the night shift at work throws your bodyclock into a complete quandry. I feel tired, but I think my body feels like it should be guiding some drunk idiot through configuring his wireless modem while he shouts deaths threats at me. Therefore, I'm in a tired but sleepless state.

So, I've decided to write up something I thought about while lying here about the movie myself and fuckdoll saw yesterday: "Surrogates", starring the hard to be killed, Bruce Willis.

Great movie, first off. The storyline (which I can cover without ruining the plot to the whole thing) is that something like 98% of the world's population stays physically at home and sits in a chair with sensors and such. This allows them to send out a robot version of themselves into the real world. This is marketed in the movie as a way to stay 100% safe as, even if you are ass-raped by a rabid gorilla, you remain safe at home.

All this causes an interesting side effect - no one gives a shit about another person's safety. The "people" you see out and about are disposable. And this is what I want to talk about with the real world as we know it today, along with the bizarre contradictions people still hold dear.

There's a scene in the movie (without giving anything away) where there's a massive room with the sensor chair things, and soldiers are in each one. Then it cuts to the actual war where blank faced soldiers are fighting, one gets killed and the real soldier back at the base just logs into another robot and carries on fighting. It was this that made me compare it to the current world as we know it. For example, I find it hard to identify with people I don't know - most likely from my childhood where I was kept away from social situations (no Freudian assessments, please!).

But a lot of the world are like this as well. I mean, you can run a few google searches and find internet videos of people being killed by all manner of means. There's porn where girls take on 50 or 60 guys one after the other. Videos of soldiers taking out insurgents with an arsenal of weaponry. Its reduced the population's sensitivity to harm to others in much the same way the movie depicted. We don't care about others, as a general rule.

But, and here's the contradiction, if myself and fuckdoll where to "come out" and say we both enjoy it when I slap her hard across the face, or use a choke hold to make her pass out, or poking her clit with needles, society would be in shock.

How is it that we can all be more focussed in catching a view of the carnage and gore as we pass a car crash, but two consenting adults that enjoy SM makes us recoil in horror? Bizarre, isn't it?

Myself and fuckdoll have been together (in a form) for over a year now, and we have been through more than a regular couple might face in five times that amount of time. I truly know that she trusts me with her life - she hands that control to me regularly - and I would never do anything to put her in danger. I know 110% that I would trust he with my life for the same reason.

But, if I tried to explain to our "vanilla" friends the things we do, most of them would see me as evil, and probably see fuckdoll as a beaten "wife" who needs help. If only she could see that.. Etc etc.

I can (I hope) safely assume that, as you are reading this blog, you are able to separate abuse from SM. But, I still find society's general consensus to disposable people, yet horror at certain consentual activities quite odd.

Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to cuddle my little fuckdoll and try and get some more sleep.

Have a good day everyone, and check out that movie. Its a good one.

;)

---

I've lost faith in Darwin. Evolution stopped centuries ago. Humans are getting dumber.

2009-10-06T14:00:00.001+11:00

This week, I'm doing the graveyard shift at work, meaning I need to sleep during the daylight hours. A long story I won't go into means than I'm now knackered, grumpy and sat in a cafe drinking a decaf latte before attempting more sleep in a short while.

But there's something irritating the fuck out of me. Its the self-righteousness of parents of young children.

Nothing makes my anger boil like when my relaxing coffee or lunch is distrubed by a screaming child that has one of these parents. Kids and babies cry from time to time, I completely understand that. But the pat of the scenario that makes me want to go mass-homicidal is when the parents ignore it. Or, in the case now in front of me, they laugh and make googoo faces and noises as the devil spawn screaming bloody murder.

I've caught eye contact with the father who's the culprit in this situation and he obviously doesn't care that the rest of the cafe patrons are being distrubed. He's waving his arms around as if to say "well, if I've lost all care for the screaming, you shouldn't be too concerned either"

But. I AM concerned. I'm concerned that you are teaching your child that screaming and shouting in public is a completely acceptable passtime. They allow the child to scream more and more as the months and years pass, and claim that this teaches the child that screaming gets you nowhere.

But I beg to differ. (Face it, you knew that was coming!)

I call my theory the "Happy Meal Syndrome". First, a kid asks for a happy meal, and they are refused. Kid then throws a very small tantrum, and obtains the happy meal. Kids aren't stupid, and this only means that next time, they start the negotiation at the small tantrum next time. The parent, again, ignores it to "teach" it that screaming gets you nowhere. And then, they give in.

This syndrome is carried on into adult life. Ask yourself why people completely loose the fucking plot at store clerks for no apparent reason. Or why people go nuts at call centre workers. Or sit in non-moving traffic beeping the horn.

Is there any other example more perfect than a herd of cars, all stationary, and most of them beeping the horn at the (non moving) car in front of them? What do they actually hope to achieve? This is the happy meal syndrom in full effect. Make loud noises and you are meant to get what you want.

I'll give you another example. On last night's shift the three guys on the phones (myself and two co-workers) had one woman call in a total of 7 times over the shift, asking the same question. It was a question that she had to ask another department, that only open during business hours. But she came to the conclusion that repeatedly calling and, effectively, being a crying baby, would give the required outcome.

Fuck. People are stupid.

Anyone got any other examples that they wanna get off their chests? We people with functioning brains need to stick together!

---

Not quite a hard situation...

2009-09-30T14:14:00.000+10:00

Its a wonderful day today, the sky is blue, the sun is hot and people are smiling (before they start their shifts). Today is symbolic for me as well, as I feel that I'm pretty much out of my most recent depression. This comes not only as good news to me, but also to fuckdoll.

One of the main problems that happen due to a depressive state, is a total lack of sex drive. While that frustrating to both people, it becomes worse as I start to come out of the low and stabilise again - I start to feel incredibly horny but, due to the depression, nothing works.. And, quite frankly, that fucking sucks.

I just hope that it sorts its shit out soon, because I'm gagging to slap fuckdoll around and hear her screams again as I force my cock into her body..

I'll keep you updated ;)

---

"War is Peace," "Freedom is Slavery," "Ignorance is Strength." (Welcome to 1984)

2009-09-29T14:13:00.000+10:00

It hit me when I arrived at the main set of lights where I make the turn into the business park area in which the campus is location - I didn't want to make the turn. I wanted to carry on riding. Throw away the troubles of this job and just sign up to finish my training for another career path and start working as that as soon as I physically can.

But that's not what's expected or needed of me right now. What's needed and expected of me is to keep my head down, put on my headset and endure the contempt and disgust I have towards the people that work for this company. If you can call what they do work.

Just across from me as I sit and write this, outside one of the multiple on-campus cafes, 5 suited people (2 women and 3 gay guys) are making toasts with their cups of coffee and discussing the usual gossip type things. Just beyond that group is another, doing pretty much the same thing.

Where as, I am the invisible one. The "CFU", or Customer Facing Unit.

A "unit". A device or small increment of measurement. That's me. I allow these wankers to do nothing all day but drink coffee and drive lamborghinis (there was one in the carpark yesterday, and I saw a ferrari as I entered this afternoon).

My job, quite simply, is to cover up the company's bad network and procedures. I tell customers that, no, there's no-one else with that problem in the area. Even though there are about 60+ others. I'm the one that has to smile and say how great it is that an entire department is now responsible for making the workplace fun.

There's even a man with the title "Culture Executive" for fuck's sake.

Upon enquiring what his job was, I was told he was responsible for making the company happy. I then asked what happens if someone isn't happy, (like me, for example), and that person had become disillusioned with the company's focus and direction. Well, I was told, that's because you are "negative", and therefore can't be helped. It also means that if I'm happy, its all down to him. If I'm sad, its my fault and he can't be blamed.

But, I digress. Back to my point.. I hate my job. I feel dirty and grimy as I flex my bullshit gland on a daily basis. Smiling when I have to, and pretending to be excited when they tell me that Marketing are pulling on board 150,000 more customers onto a network that can't even handle its current workload. When I point this out, I'm met with the usual "don't say anything" or "don't be negative" responses. But I've had enough.

These people don't need to deal with the barrage of abuse I get dealt to me on an hourly basis from frustrated customers. They aren't told how many seconds I need to spend on calls on average. They don't have to have the same customers that shout at them then rate their interactions 24 hours later. And aren't then punished when the customers aren't happy. I hate being told that I can improve the "customer experience" by, basically, bullshitting our "valued customers" better and cracking jokes with them (how I'm meant to do this between them threatening my life over a crappy internet connection, I don't know).

I feel like I'm working in the Ministry Of Truth in George Orwell's 1984.

Remember the Party Truths:
"War is Peace"
"Freedom is Slavery"
"Ignorance is Strength."

God I need to go for a ride.

---

I'm currently unavailable, please leave a message after the long tone...

2009-09-28T22:30:00.000+10:00

Its been a weird few days.

I've been admitted and then discharged from hospital, realised I really can't stand my job for a minute longer without feeling repulsed at dealing with grown adults carrying on like children (both customers and co-workers), and house "mates" being anything but friendly.

And now I've just admitted to fuckdoll that I'm in a depressive period. I'm not sure if she's ever been regularly at the level that I'm at, she says she understands what I'm going through, but I'm just not sure. I know that she loves and cares for me, but I find it hard sometimes to find myself worthy of life. I've told her of this but sometimes its really hard to say, out loud, your thoughts as they sound so sad and withering that they make you feel even worse.

Right now, at this point in time, I know that I have so much going for me. Yet I find myself having to think of a reason not to die every few seconds just to fend off the suicidal thoughts for that moment, even though its as futile as attempting to bat away the onset of old age - its not going away.

In the hospital the other day, when I had the lumbar puncture, I was warned of possible spinal damage or even death. The odd thing (I suppose) is that the thought of having a disability was horrifying to me, yet the thought of death was (almost) welcome. "At least the pain will stop". That was the first thought that entered my mind.

Now, I'm suddenly in two-minds about posting this update, simply because I find it hard to know that fuckdoll will read it at her earliest convenience. And, without a doubt, she will be upset by what she reads. But this is my dilemma that I face almost daily. Having to fight off the suicidal thought attacks my depression throws at me and yet, at the same time, fighting back any externally visable show of that fight to those around me.

There's also the other part of the equation: those around me will feel hurt and lied to. This will be because I've hidden the thoughts from them. Again this is mainly due to the standard response people have when faced with a fellow human who feels that, when faced with the choices they must face in life, find the solution of their own death to be the most preferable option to choose. That standard response is to point out all the "good" things that the person should live for.

Here's my (somewhat jaded) advice for the moment - a suicidal person doesn't want to hear the things to live for, not as such. Reeling out a list like that will only result in them feeling like they are so bad that they should, most probably, just take their life and have done with the whole saga.

Interesting that I used the word saga there. As it, so smoothly, leads me to my next point, its only Monday evening. I have, so far this week, expended that much energy trying to smile at the right points, joking when jokes are expected and generally cheating myself into surviving another hour that it should at least be Thursday.

This week is going to take a couple of months to see through to it's end..

Beeeeeeeeeeeeep.

---

Illness, spinal taps and these go to 11.

2009-09-27T15:32:00.000+10:00

Its been sometime again since I last posted, and I can only hope that you have been reading the updates on fuckdoll's blog in the meantime to see that I have not been on a complete mania.

I have, however, been reducing my medications over the past few weeks with the advice of my doctor, simply becase I really don't want to be on them forever. I want to take the control back within my own hands now, and I feel that I am in a stable enough role in my life to start that first step.

In other news, unrelated to my medication situation, I was admitted to hospital early on wednesday morning (just gone) with a very high fever, low blood pressure and migraine, all mixed with the sheer panic of my throat starting to close up. Fuckdoll did a great job of taking care of me, but I could see the panic in her eyes too.

A number of tests were carried out on me with no results. The worst test by far was the "lumbar puncture". Which is, let it be said, far from as civil as it's name suggests. It, quite simply, involves the doctors forcing a large-gauge needle between the vertebra of your spine and into the sack of fluid and goo around your spinal cord. They then suck out some of this fluid. And yes, it really does hurt as much as it sounds like it would.

So, I apologise for a lack of the usual "good" content for this update: but I'm completely knackered just functioning!

A really big thank you to my fuckdoll though, for caring for my during my time of need, and for putting aside the frustrations I cause her at times.

Take care,
Master.

---

Red mist.

2009-09-06T15:41:00.000+10:00

Stressed.

Angry.

I feel like I want to write about it all, but the only thing in my mind that surfaces from the murky gloom is a desire to beat someone, anyone, to death.

I was to feel a life expire in my hands to relax me.

Perhaps my aggression isn't quite under control yet.

---

A Walk In The Park (Part Three - The Conclusion)

2009-08-31T17:39:00.000+10:00

It seemed like an eternity for fuckdoll, still bound with scarlet rope in a bent over position, until she could hear the approach of the man dispatched by her Master to fetch two canes. And it wasn't the rustle of the leaves that signalled that he was approaching. It was the whooshing sound of swishing the cnes through the air as he came from the darkness.

He quietly handed the canes to her Master who took a few quick, and dramatically loud swipes at thin air. Fuckdoll knew what was coming - she was rapidly slipping into subspace without even the touch of one of the canes yet.

Just then, she felt the smooth sensation of a bamboo cane brush lightly against her cunt. It moved away quickly, and was then lightly but quickly returned. Once more slid it's entire length along her soaking wet cunt, still oozing cum from the fucking on the table.

In the blink of an eye, and with fuckdoll only realising for a moment prior, the cane whooshed away and with that noise that arouses her Master everytime, cracked down with harsh intent accross her bottom. The pain was intense, her mouth was open, but no scream was emitted. WHOOSH! CRACK! Another! Again! And again!

Fuckdoll had no idea how many cane strikes she had received - she was in a completely different time and space to the men currently using her body for pleasure.. She had the brief sensation of being untied and carried back to the table again. She looked up through tear-filled eyes to see yet another man fucking her. His face showing he was obviously not far from orgasm. Her training from her Master instictively told her hands to reach down and clasp the man's hips and pull him deeper inside of her. She needed the cum. More, MORE!

She heard another voice, a female voice whimpering "Next! Next!" And then realised it was her own. No turning back now, this was her. She was her Master's slut and proud of it.

Then she saw familiar eyes looking down at her. They were her Master's. His smiling face a pleasant diversion from the equally pleasant group fuck. His hands touched her body, and she felt instantly warm. She closed her eyes as she reached down and guided his cock inside her body, her legs wrapping around his waist.

Their smiles at each other didn't take away the brutal hardness of his thrusts into her cunt - instead, they only served to display the romantic nature of their sex together. They were Master and submissive. Owner and slave. But they were lovers too.

As his orgasm came forward into her, his hands wrapped upwards around her throat.. Clentching and squeezing.

Through the headrush of the blood restriction.. Fuckdoll pulled him deeper inside herself with her hands.

Coming to from her unconscious state, she was still in the park. Her Master holding her and his friends were walking away into the darkness. It had only been a minute or too since she passed out.

Holding her closer and tighter.. He said the words she craves to hear.. "I love you baby..."

---

A Walk In The Park (Part Two)

2009-08-29T12:32:00.002+10:00

Fuckdoll tried her hardest to focus against the blackness of the night, but she just couldn't make out the face of the man approaching her. One thing was a given though, she would behave as she knew her Master would want – her jaw dropped open and her mouth obeyed the command. If her Master wanted her to respect and follow the instructions of these men, she would ensure that she did just that.

The man grabbed hold of the back of her head roughly. A large fist full of her black hair and forced his cock immediately down her throat. Pounding at her face slowly but firmly. She recognised the cock – this was her Master. A relaxing warmth spread over her and the tension lifted from the scene. Where she was a little nervous before about taking on five different men, the feeling of having Him inside her made her feel calmer. Her throat relaxed and despite choking and drooling all over the cock, she enjoyed the sensation of being watched by the other men.

Master suddenly withdrew his cock and using the hand full of hair at the back of her head, dragged her over to the wooden picnic table a few metres away. The wood of the table was obviously old, years of hot summers and wet winders had taken their toll on the surface and it was rough to the touch. But that didn't stop her Master. "Get on your back" he ordered while pushing her backwards with a firm hand around her throat.

He pushed open her legs and she knew what was about to happen – the first man approached, and without a word, he slid his cock inside her, by now, soaking wet cunt. She let out a shudder of glee as he started thrusting faster and harder. She began to panic, what if he doesn't have a condom on?? It's dark, her Master wouldn't be able to see if he was or wasn't. FUCK! As a display of their bond, He knew what was on her mind. She felt his breath near her ear as he said softly "Relax, I had them checked first"..

She did just that, hang on – they had been checked? Her thought was interrupted by confirmation of the thought that had began to dawn on her – her Master's friend started grunting and fucking her harder, then she felt the hot, thick spurts of cum inside of her body. She couldn't help it, she began to cum as well. It seemed whenever she felt a hard cock start pumping inside her like this, she couldn't help but instantly reach orgasm as well. She was only just finished letting it wash over her that the man pulled out and suddenly her Master was pulling her off the table again. He was dragging her over to two nearby trees.

Large and sturdy trunks that she noticed had the remainder of the men stood nearby. Her footsteps were a little wobbly after the pounding she had just received but she managed a quick scan of the two trees – scarlet red ropes were already secured around both trunks. One on each about 30cm above the ground, one more on each trunk about a metre further up.

Positioning her in place between the two trees, He tied both her wrists to the ropes set higher up the trees, holding her arms out wide in a T shape. Fuckdoll then spread her legs assuming she knew the drill of what the bottom ropes were for. Master saw this and calmly said "I don't recall telling you to do that" followed sharply by a good hard slap across her face, she was in heaven now.

He positioned her so that she was bent over and the two bottom ropes were looped through the O-ring on her collar holding her in place. She now couldn't stand up or pull in her hands. Because of the tension on the ropes on her wrists, she couldn't really crouch down either. She could feel the other man's cum leaking out of her body and oozing down her inner thighs, mixing with the cunt juices now flowing from her ready for more fucking.

She heard movement behind her.

It was her Master.

"Daniel," he said, "go to the car, on the back seat, there are two bamboo canes. Could you bring them to me…?"

(to be continued, again…)

A Walk In The Park (Part One)

2009-08-28T13:21:00.001+10:00

The evening had gone well. Master and fuckdoll's first poker night with his workmates. Eight people in total and with only play money going around, the atmosphere was jovial. Fuckdoll ensured she teased her Master, as she knew he enjoyed, by flirting with his friends. He loved it when she wore skirts just that bit too short for normal use and showed of a tad too much thigh.

He enjoyed it so much that, when he closed the front door after his friends left for the night, he turned to her with his usual expression of filth. He was going to dominate her tonight.

"I have a task for you, my little Slut" he said as a smile grew across his face.

-----

The sound of fuckdoll's heels clicked on the pavement, the sound carrying far due to the warmth of the night air. The occasional car passed her, and she shielded her face from the headlights each time – protecting her eyes from the brightness. She had to keep her vision tuned to the darkness for the part of her walk that was coming up.

She stood at the entrance to the inner-city park and peered into the distance. It was so dark, it was like ink had been poured into the area. She reached into the pocket of her 3/4 length coat – the only actual clothing she was wearing – and pulled out the small torch. Her Master has already fitted it with a red filter. Not to reduce the level of light it gave out, although that was a good side effect to stop passers-by seeing the light bouncing around as she walked, but mainly so that he could see her approach.

Taking a deep breath, she switched on the torch and pointed it at the path infront of her, and started her walk into the park. The metallic clinks and clunks of her metal collar seemed louder than they were in reality, and she would normally have stopped the O-ring from clanking around with her free hand, but her Master had instructed her not to.

She then felt and heard the familiar buzz-buzz of her mobile receiving a text message. Her footsteps stopped. Should she check it? What if her Master saw her wavering from the task she had been allowed to take part in? What if it was her Master sending the message? She stood in the darkness for a minute or so, embroiled in her internal dilemma and was only broken out of her turmoil when her mobile vibrated again. She made the choice – read the messages.

Opening up her phone she saw two messages, both from her Master. She read the first one: "Open your coat and let your body show as you walk". Instantly, and without a heartbeat of hesitation, she obeyed. Then she read the second message: "you hesitated. You now need to removed your coat, fold it over your left forearm and continue your walk."

Fuck. She knew he was watching now. He had to be close. She looked around her, squinting a little, wondering where he was amongst the trees and then realised that if she hesitated longer she might have a further task. Quickly, she removed her coat and felt the warm slow breeze of the summer night brushing past her naked body. Folding the coat over her left forearm, she walked on.

No more than 30 or so metres later, her phone in her hand vibrated again. She didn't pause this time and read the message right away: "put your coat on the ground. And kneel down on it." She did exactly that. After about 30 seconds, she heard movement. But not from one place. She heard movement from all around her. In the low-level light, she could just make out 4, perhaps 5 men. As they got closer, she realised that they were the same men she had been laughing and flirting with earlier in the evening, the friends of her Master.

One unzipped his jeans as he walked towards her….

"Open your mouth you fucking whore… I'm gonna enjoy this.."

(to be continued)

---

For M.

2009-08-24T20:48:00.000+10:00

This morning was a turning point in the lives of myself and fuckdoll. We awoke to a lazy day together, and (as I'm somewhat of a geek inside), I rolled over to check my Blackberry for any messages I had received during the night. As I flicked through the inbox, I saw that I'd got an update. I read the update to myself and was moved beyond words. I then read the update aloud to fuckdoll, and tears welled up in her eyes. She was as moved as I was.

Quite simply, the comment from "M." deserves a response with more weight that just a comment in reply. It deserves a post to say thank you. Thank you from both myself and fuckdoll for touching our lives, by saying that we have touched yours.

I never thought that my writing would be anything other than a way for me to vent my mind. A way of complimenting the mood-stabilizers I take everyday. Never did I think that it would be read by someone everytime I posted something. To think that things I've wrote have perhaps helped someone make such a monumental decision in their life is an honour that I'm not sure I'm worthy of.

So, to "M", I say congratulations. I know that your choice is not something that can be made easily, nor is it something that can be executed with any kind of ease. But, and I can promise you this, you will reach one point, where you wake up after a good night's sleep, and you will realise that you have your whole life ahead of you.

And you can do whatever you want that day, and for your life.

All the best with everything, and I hope to still have your eyes reading our blogs..

Take care,
Master & Fuckdoll

---

And it's been another while..

2009-08-20T12:54:00.000+10:00

I've been really bad with posting updates, but I suppose that the main reason for that is that this blog started as a way for me to vent my thoughts and emotions during the phase before the obvious happened - I left my wife.

It took a comment from one of the readers to prompt me to post another update. I thank that reader for that comment, and I hope you the best in your life. Everyone deserves happiness.

So, briefly, I left my wife a few weeks ago and, literally, packed up my bike with as much luggage as a 1000cc sportbike can carry without wheelying down the road, and rode off into the night. The freezing night air whipped against my clothes, pulling away layers of the oppression that I'd endured for years. I was finally doing something for me.

After riding for about 45mins or so, I pulled into a fuel station. Stopped at a pump and wandered into the shop and bought a hot chocolate to warm my hands while I filled up the bike's fuel tank. Standing under the flouro lights of a fuel station at 3am took me back to my teenage years of late night driving. Which was the last time I could think of when I felt free to do as I pleased. I could do whatever I wanted to do, and what I wanted to do right then, was call fuckdoll and make sure she still wanted me.

She did.

The weeks since then have been a whirlwind. Happy times of waking up next to her, mixed with some bad times with my wife contacting me and not wanting to let go.

The other problem lately, is my workplace. My manager is a little weakling who is one of the most passive-aggressive people I have had the misfortune of encountering. He is fake with his constant smiles and his faux laughter goes through me like fingernails scraped down a chalkboard. He makes my manias want to surface. I daydream about smashing his head into the corner of his desk until he dies, or beating him with a pool cue. Anything to end his exsistence.

But I won't do it. I care so little for him that I can't bring myself to burn the calories needed to kill him.

And on that note, I shall end. And I promise to update this more often.

Take care, and, to those who can identify with my situation with leaving my wife - do what you need to do to be happy, and only regret things you choose not to do.

---

An open letter..

2009-07-11T17:16:00.000+10:00

Dear Reader,

Over the past couple of years I've been fighting against bipolar which has taken massive amounts of energy from my daily reserve, because of this I have hd very little time to have the luxury of listening to my own body and mind and hearing what they actually want.
Then I had my breakdown. A few days of suicidal thoughts interspersed with uncontrollable sobbing and exhaustion. I had hit rock bottom and I knew I needed help.
After a month or two getting the dosage right, I'm now medicated daily to keep all my internal moods in check and I feel a scary reality has surrounded me.
Its like its been waiting patiently for years for me to have the mental and emotional strength to deal with it. And the reality is that I'm not happy with my life where it stands at the moment.

So, in what ways am I not happy? Well, I feel that I've missed much of my 20s. Even though I'm only 29 years old now, I feel like I've skipped my 30s too. I feel like I'm stuck in middle life, with a job that pays bills, living in an area that I don't belong in, and acting out the character of the "happy married man".
I have tried to stimulate my life in the directions I wish to pursue - whether they be something as simple as being spontaneous, or something more complex like obtaining a circle of friends (I currently don't have friends outside of work). But all these attempts were in vain. It was never to be because those around me, despite their initial enthusiasm, set too many boundaries, rules and regulations upon my wants and needs, that I found myself sinking back into the submissive role of the "nice married man" that I acted out.

Can I act forever? No. And I can feel my costume is coming apart at the seams as I type.
It used to be easy: wake up, say that you are happy and smile a lot. Go to work and repeat the smiling happy face. Come home, and do it again. This would be interspersed with me being flashed around to my wife's co-workers and friends like a trophy. Only you need to look after a trophy. After a while, if all you do is show it off, the shine starts to fade. The bling stops blinging. And once that happens, you realise that the gold cup trophy is just that - an empty cup. A void surrounded by once shiny material.
But these last couple of months, the claity and focus have gotten sharper. I'm realising that I'm not happy with where I am emotionally. Unfortunately, the only way to move ahead is to demolish someone else's happiness.

Is my happiness of greater value than someone else's? Possibly. It depends upon who you ask.
If you asked the woman who's heart I am going to have to destroy in order to get where I need, then no. I'm sure she would suggest a "last try". But if you ask a logical person, with no emotions involved in the decision making process, then yes, it most likely is of greater value to me. And that's the thing, because there are so many different viewpoints in all of this chaos, there are equally as many versions of worth placed upon all the parts involved in the chaos.

Will I make the break? This isn't a yes/no question as far as I'm concerned. Its simply something that has to be done. I just can't carry on living in a scenario where I'm not happy, where pretty much every smile I make is a facade.
I do love my wife, but love can never be (and shouldnt be) strong enough to do away with all your personal dreams and desires in order to satisfy the other person completely. If you are not happy, then what is the point in love?

I know its not going to be easy in any way. But talking and brainstorming about it all (like in this medium) only serves to strengthen and enforce the only choice that is the right one, the logical one and the best one for me.

I only hope the conversation, when it happens, goes as smoothly as this post.

Don't waste your life, best regards
Mark

---

It's been a while....

2009-06-27T19:04:00.000+10:00

First up.. Sorry for the massive pause in updates. I've had so many things on my mind as of late that this has been placed on the back-burner as something to attend to later.

But I've realised that I need to vent to help me deal with the things going on in my life.

Primarily, I have made a decision: I need to leave my wife. I am not happy with my current situation there, and I know that I'm only staying to make her happy.

The side effect of that is that I'm getting more unhappy by the day. I've realised that I need to be free from constantly putting myself second to her. I know that its going to demolish her, and the thought of upsetting her, also upsets me. I do, after all, love her. But I'm no longer in love. I just don't feel that smile inside when I arrive home. I'm submissive in my role with her.

Not, you understand, in a S&M type way, but in a way that I just stop talking when she speaks. She has become a mother figure in my life, and that's just not right.

Then there's the sex. Or total lack of. You see, I need sex to be rough, with slapping, choking, whipping and degradation in there too. But she is a completely vanilla person. The effect of this is that I just can't become aroused by it.

So, even if I stayed, I'd have to do what I've done for all but the first year of our marriage - I'd have to cheat.

She doesn't need to hear that part from me, of course. But as much as I'm looking forward to the first day in which I truely feel free, I'm also (just as much) dreading the conversation that has to take place to get me there.

I've spoken to fuckdoll about everything, and we have both relised that we love each other. She is, certainly something that I've been searching for - loven honesty, security and the S&M thrown in too. I'd finally feel able to be in a relationship without the "need" to seek others out.

I'll let you know how it goes, but expect some pauses in updates for a while

Mark

---

Rant....

2009-06-18T15:11:00.000+10:00

I guess I need to rant. To talk. To throw away the facade for a while and allow all my thoughts to spew out intot the cold light of day.

I finished work at 1130pm tonight and rode home on a bike that doesn't seem to be performing at its best - I'm not sure what, it just doesn't seem "right". The ride was cold, windy and raining. Then I get home to my wife and her emotionally and socially inept daughter (21 next month).

I'm welcomed home on what is now technically my birthday to find them both saying "happy birthday". I get no card from either of them. Then I get handed the first season of Two and a Half Men on DVD. Still in its cellophane wrapper. With the price attached.

Now, I know I don't go in for birthdays, but I figure - either go along with that and do nothing. Or, actually celebrate my fucking birthday.

I sit down (on the floor cos neither of the fuckers moved from the sofa), and get ready to watch a little TV before trying to fall asleep. But no, I get told that I'm to follow my wife to bed.

But, I point out, I'm not tired, you should go to bed and I'll maybe follow later. But I'm firmly told that is not acceptable. In less that 4mins later, she's snoring horrifically loudly and I'm heading back to the damn sofa.

Moving all the crap they left out to clear enough space for me to lie down and relax, I find a birthday card. Blank. Under a half eaten bag of Doritos.

-------------------------

The only real thing going through my mind during all of this was the amazing morning I had with fuckdoll. She truely has me thinking some things through in my head. I told her that I love her yesterday.. She reciprocated the feeling and we agreed that we are still finding out when kind of love it is.. A friend? A lover? More?

Sure as anything, right now...

I wish I was there

Mark.

---

Horny.

2009-06-11T16:48:00.000+10:00

Glancing at the time, I know that a huge event is currently occuring in my fuckdoll's life. If you have been reading her blog, you'll know that her mother is in town and she is having to tell her about her career choice.

She's been building this up within herself over the past few days and after I highlighted a few facts about everything, she seemed a lot more comfortable about entering the lion's den.

I sit, staring out of the window next to my desk at work, and wish her the best. I'm sending my energy in the hope it helps.

Shortly after I collared her, she suggested that I read up on some blogs regarding Masters and their submissives. Mainly because I'm nt really in "the scene". I feel I take to this role naturally, but have never actually been so far into it as I am now.

I've spent the last 45mins or so googling around the internet, reading posts and blogs and there seems to be a few stark contrasts in what "scene" Masters do, compared to my way of owning.

For example, it seems that so many Masters make their submissives ask for permission before they are allowed to cum. I really don't see the point in that. I like that I can make my fuckdoll cum on command. At times, she's actually begged me not togive her another orgasm, but, of course, I do.

I think that as much as the bond the two of us can be labelled as a Master and submissive, but the dynamic is so much dfferent to what I can find so far online.

But, all things aside, I really want to fuck the hell out of her at the moment. She made me horny before with her talk of a threesome with a girlfriend of her's who is somewhat of an anal slut. Now I need to fuck.

Problem is, her mum's in town overnight. So the next time I'll have her is saturday.

Her holes will be raw when I've finished with her.

Mark.

---

My Transformers Are Still In Their Boxes After 20yrs.

2009-06-10T23:57:00.000+10:00

Just to give you some context for this post, I need to give you some background information about my life. Specifically, my illness.

About 2 and a bit months ago, I was diagnosed with severe Bipolar Disorder, something my fuckdoll has helped me immensely with. She has been one of the stand out figures that has given me strength and focus to keep me on my medications, and work through the side-effects.

But the Bipolar still lingers (it will never go away and has been around causing problems all my life), and its lingering now. I'm suddenly feeling depressed. I am listening to music that is probably not the best for my mood as it reminds me of certain parts of my life where I should have stopped being taken advantage of. Or times where I needed to be more assertive about what I wanted.

Is this low episode anything to do with me collaring fuckdoll? That is undoubtably something she's going to ask - she gets concerned about me and worries that our dynamic is self-destructive at times for me. But its certainly not self-destructive in any way. You have no need to worry about that my girl.

Then, what is it to do with? What caused this depression to envelop me so suddenly over the space of literally 45mins.

Its a combination of things.

But they are private things to me and don't need to be discussed here. But, truth be told, I'm unsure on how to reduce the hold that they have over my life when left unchecked.

I realised today that some people see a submissive as an object to be used. And while that may be the case in some part, my object to be used smiles, laughs and has things she enjoys. Is this a different way of looking at a Master/submissive relationship?

Perhaps.

I remember as a child that I had thebest toys of my circle of friends, but rarely played with others. All my action figures were stored in their original undamaged boxes they came with. The graphics stickers where pristine and glued back into place if their corners began to peel.

But, on the rare occasions that I let the other children play with my toys, I spent more time than usual afterwards fixing the toys back to working order. And I never enjoyed that time. I felt used, even though I wasn't the one handled roughly.

I think I may have hit upon the reason for my depression...

I have an unquenching desire to allow others to play with my fuckdoll, but I want to ensure no patch-up time is required afterwards.

The thought of someone else damaging my favourite action figure is too hard to think about.

Mark.

---

A Place Of Authority

2009-06-10T13:08:00.001+10:00

This morning, my fuckdoll braved the freezing conditions of winter and came over to my place. She will be writing up the post at her blog here: http://www.used-and-abused-fdoll.blogspot.com

While this morning was extremely enjoyable, I will leave it to her filthy mind to write up for you all. I, on the other hand, want to talk about a realisation I made this morning.

I'm sat at my desk in the open plan office, and there are a handful of fellow co-workers running around attempting to look busy. They are carrying paper and a pen in the hope of appearing to have some quantity of authority. These people, you see, want to be the next batch of managers or team leaders. In fact, they've already jumped the first hurdle by being accepted into the fold of trainee managers.

But its all fluff, they are walking around and aren't actually DOING anything. They are pretending to work and using all the right phrases, like "touch base" and "let's discuss" and "action plans", but do they actually have any authority? Do they actually have any power?

Not compared to my situation.

In watching these people, and joking with team-mates about how dumb they look, trying to get "exposure" in the business, I realised something quite profound - I actually OWN someone. I am the Owner and Master of my fuckdoll.

This morning, during our playtime, I told her to do things, and without question or pause, she did them to the letter. Truely amazing.

I ordered her collar yesterday, and I'm looking forward to that moment that I can encase her neck in it. The moment that padlock clicks into place, I think that I will realise that, without doubt, there is no greater place of power, no higher position of authority, than to own a submissive.

Mark.

---

She Is Owned By Me

2009-06-09T13:08:00.000+10:00

I woke early this morning and got dressed far quicker than someone awake at 530am should. I carved up the other road users along the freeway and did drag race starts from every red light as I travelled through the city. I was on a mission.

I pulled up outside fuckdoll's place and she obviously had heard me coming, because she was stood at the front door when I had taken off my helmet. She looked as excited as I was for this morning's main event.

Once inside her bedroom, I undressed and quickly got into bed. It didn't take long until I was inside her. Slowly, but deeply, fucking her cunt from behind. A few other positions and I was starting to think about cumming. But I didn't want to cum inside fuckdoll.

I wanted to cum inside MY fuckdoll.

Seeing the ribbon on the bedside table, I picked it up and stood upon the bed. She immediately got the idea and knelt before me. I looped the ribbon around her delicate neck and tied it into a bow. I will be getting her a proper collar soon, but the ribbon made a good symbol of the more gentle control I have this time around with her. I understand emotions now, whereas I really didn't appreciate them in the past.

She then, still kneeling, hugged into my legs and I held her close to me. This felt real, it felt as I imagined a Master and his collared submissive SHOULD be like.

It was deeply enjoyable to then have her riding my cock. Both of us smiling at each other as she came. I couldn't help but glance at the bowed ribbon marking her as owned by me.

I'm a bit lost for words at the moment, I'm just grinning like an idiot.

What a wonderful day.

Mark.

---

Quickie

2009-06-08T20:05:00.000+10:00

Just a quick momentary update while I put fuel into my bike on the way home.

Fuckdoll and I had a lengthy conversation today, and I asked for her permission to take her as my submissive.

She said yes!

I'm going over to her place in the morning to, ummm, consumate the proceedings.

A very happy Mark.

---

More Honesty From The Dark Corner

2009-06-08T15:28:00.000+10:00

I thought that I'd write some more about my darker interests. Something I've recently shared with fuckdoll (still the only person in the entire world, except myself) who knows this information.

So, when I was about 19 or so, I stumbled accross a new (to me) genre of porn. Pre-op transexuals. As the years went by, I became a little obsessed by this genre. A sexy looking "girl" with nice big tits and a pretty face, but the total contast of a cock between her legs.

A few years back, I had a fling that lasted for a few months with such a girl (aka a "trap" from a certain internet forum - as in, its a trap because you think she's a "she"), and we enjoyed sex as often as it was rough.

Did I ever let her fuck me? No. Did I ever give her oral? Again, no. I don't consider myself gay by any means - men just aren't attractive to me in any way. But the concept of sucking or being fucked by a cock does intrest me. I would need to be aroused to be in that mindspace though, and that simply couldn't happen with another man.

As fuckdoll is a successfull professional Mistress in her work life, she has relayed stories to me about straight men who are happy to enjoy receiving anal sex. It took some time before I was comfortable accepting that a straight man can do this, but I finally can (hence the rimming this morning).

I can now admit (as an anonymous writer) that I would regularly penetrate myself during my mid to late teens during mastuabation (or fapping to give it my favourite term), and would enjoy testing my physical limits. I could, after practice, manage to insert two Lynx bodyspray cans side by side while I fapped furiously.

But that was a decade ago. And the whole idea hasn't sprung up side then. So, yes, I'd let a trap fuck me. But most likely only the one in the picture.

That one is fucking hot.

Mark.

---

Set Penis To Rapid-Fire, And Proceed.

2009-06-08T12:24:00.000+10:00

I awoke this morning to clear skies and the beginnings of a colourful sunrise. The air had a chill in it but it didn't stop be warming up my motorbike ready for the 90km ride to fuckdoll's place. I knew it would be worth the trip.

As I rode along the freeway, the sky directly above me was a very dark blue, in my mirrors I could see the warm, reddish tones of a sunrise. But ahead of me, in almost a poetic way, was a full moon. It was low and huge in the sky. I picked up the pace and changed up a gear, I needed to keep up with the receeding darkness before the light of day and normality caught up with me.

I arrived at fuckdoll's place and sent her an sms to say I had parked out front. The door was opened by a sleepy-eyed sex toy moments later. She looked tired, vunerable. Delicious.

I undressed quickly and dived into bed after her our naked bodies against each other so that I could sap some of her body heat to warm up my icey skin. After a moment of chitchat where I ranted about nearly being driven over by some thin, old indian taxi driver, I slid my hands over the curve of fuckdoll's hips as we lay spooning in bed. I was already hard.

I aimed and pushed the tip of my cock inside her cunt, which was already wet. As it always seems to be.

I love that first gasp that she gives when my cock goes completely inside her, its like she's forgotten how deep I get inside her body. We fucked in a few different positions, all while she had to keep her squeals and moans stifled so as not to disturb her flatmates.

It was for this reason alone I put her into one of a few positions I use to get the deepest I possibly can and stimulate her g-spot.. I love seeing her eyes roll back into her head as she has a string of orgasms. I love that control over her, to tell her to cum again, even when she doesn't think she can.

A quick change of positions had her sucking and licking on my balls while she stroked my cock quickly. I could feel this orgasm was going to be a biggy. I took over control of stroking my cock and directed all the cum into her mouth, she kept sucking and I knew there was more left of my orgasm, so I instructed her to keep sucking my balls. I continued stroking and, again, no more than 60secs later, I came another load in her mouth.

We didn't stop, and another minute or two later, I came yet another load into fuckdoll's mouth. I've never, ever, managed to cum so much in a short space of time before.

Something you should know about me is, unlike most men, when I cum, my cock stays hard. I don't mean a semi-erection. I mean, hard.

So, after these 3 amazing orgasms, I started fucking her cunt again. She came and I ordered her back to blowjob duties - I knew I had another load to shoot.

We had previously (only yesterday) spoke openly online about my hidden fantasies. One of which is being rimmed. So when she whispered the words "turn over", it didn't take much.

I felt her tongue press against my hole as she jerked my cock. I couldn't concentrate on either action, it was intense! I thought I was going to cum that hard it would just be a stream, like I was pissing or something. I don't remember how we got there but I then ended up kneeling over her and cumming once again into her mouth.

Then we slept. A deep, deep sleep in each other's arms.

I think it was after we woke, but I remember fucking her again and cumming inside her cunt. But the morning is a total blur. 4, perhaps 5, loads inside her. And I feel like I've smoked a kilo of weed.

Fuck, the dark life is fun.

Mark.

---

Marquis de Sade - My Hero

2009-06-08T00:11:00.000+10:00

Perhaps the first post isn't the hardest? Maybe its actually the second one. The one that is the first post to be "on topic".

Its hard to know where to begin. I suppose I should give a brief outline of how I got to where I currently am?

About 8 years ago, I was sleeping around with a few different girls I'd met via online sites like alt.com. It was just normal, "vanilla", sex - nothing really kinky. Then I met a slightly older woman, a psychologist, who (in hindsight) groomed me into being Dominant over her. I've since found this is termed "topping from the bottom" or words to that effect.

She enjoyed playing the part of a hooker and, I even parted with money to fuck her (this would become a fetish to the point of addiction over the next few years for me).

On one memorable occasion, she demanded that I fuck her ass. Now, you should know that my cock isn't exactly small - its maybe 9.5 inches long, and thicker than average too (as just confirmed over instant message with fuckdoll) - so anal was never going to be easy for her, especially since she'd never really had it before.

So, in I went. And I really enjoyed it, I was guessing at the time from the small light grunts, moans and whimpers, that she was enjoying it as well. But I was wrong, she was in a world of pain. A few days later I would learn, via a call from her, that I had caused internal muscular damage and she was hosptalised for 5 days. I pretended to care, but I didn't. The truth was, I enjoyed knowing I had sent a woman to hospital, just by using my cock as a fleshy battering ram. And still brag about it today at times.

Since that point, I began to accept that I find deep arousal and enjoyment in causing certain types of pain, fear, panic and/or discomfort to my sexual partners. Whether it be something as simple as rough anal, or holding a girl's face under the water of a dirty creek in national park, or pushing the tip of a syringe into fuckdoll's clit while she cried hysterically.

I admit here and now, it turns me on. If I want to fuck my fuckdoll again, but can't solidify an erection after a sex session, I usually slap her across the face, or choke her to the point of her passing out. Both do the trick for me and I'm back up in seconds.

I'll write more soon, but I need to get some rest, I seeing my toy in the morning, and I have agreed to give her ass a good fucking.

Mark.

---

Switching Off The Lights

2009-06-07T17:29:00.000+10:00

Where to start?

The opening post of any blog is always the post with the most pressure of the writer. They have to make it attention-grabbing enough to make readers return, but, not so over the top that they come accross as a total cunt.

So, with no over the top fanfare, I welcome you to my blog. My secret dark corner of the internet where I ca write honestly, completely and without inhibitions.

I have another blog on this site somewhere, but this isn't a blog for family and friends to read. This is a blog where I can honestly tell you, the reader, all my filthy secrets. Where I can divulge information about what I get up to in my private life.

From fucking the girls in my office, to talking about my little toy, my girl that adapts to my needs so brilliantly that I've stopped seeking other girls to fuck.

I'm married, and, as far as most of my friends and relatives know, I'm a normal person who thinks "those people" who use whips are strange people. But I "tolerate" them as long as I'm not confronted with it.

In private, with a select group, I am a Dom. I enjoy rough sex, choking girls unconcious during sex sessions and rape-play. I've been to swinger's clubs, fucked women while their husbands watched, slept with pre-op transexuals.

I've had submissive girls, all improvements on the previous one. Culminating in my current play thing, a deliciously filthy girl who shall be known as "fuckdoll".

We have played for a number of months now, and have had fisting sessions (one this morning where I was almost able to force two hands inside her). We've had needle play, with her screaming in agony (which only hardened my erection and sadistic streak). And lots of public sex.

She also writes a blog online where I'm sure you can read about our history together (there's no need to write it twice).

So, this blog is going to include memories of times I've enjoyed, or otherwise find funny, as well as the all-important present.

I hope you enjoy your stay and feel comfortable here, I certainly do.

Mark.

---