It returns..

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.

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

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..

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.

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..

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..

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

---

Emotional stockmarket crash, here I come.

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.

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.

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!!

WE GOT AN APARTMENT OF OUR OWN!!

WOOHOOOO!!!

LET THE SORDID BEHAVIOUR BEGIN!!!!

:D

---

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

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.

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...

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)

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...

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.

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.

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)

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)

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)

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.

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..

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..

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....

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....

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.

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.

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

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

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.


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Quickie

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.

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More Honesty From The Dark Corner

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.


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Set Penis To Rapid-Fire, And Proceed.

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.


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Marquis de Sade - My Hero

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Switching Off The Lights

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.



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