Ms Julia came home from work yesterday feeling upset. She had a bad day which seemingly had to do with a few of the male directors that report to her.
At work, she has a reputation of being tough, cold as steel at times, and a stickler for details. But then again, she takes a lot of heat, and shoulders a lot of responsibility.
Yet, as a woman, people simply label her as a "bitch" while men of similar character have the benefit of being regarded as effective managers.
"Men simply suck at multitasking", she said as we laid in bed, discussing the details of her day.
"And it's not a fault of theirs. Their brains are just not wired to manage multiple fronts concurrently."
"What if you replaced all the male managers with females?", I asked
"I'm working on it!", she assured me. "But you can't just fire people for no good reason."
Ms Julia went on to say that she's keeping a paper trail on her male directors and managers. She has females she is grooming as replacements.
She also said that men are exceptional at focusing on one task at a time, and completing it to the end. Women on the other hand, are better at managing groups of people, putting out multiple fires at once, and keeping things in balance.
"Think of it like a soap opera", she explained. "Girls can follow multiple plots at the same time, which is why men typically don't watch them."
Ms Julia has this vision that one day women will take over the management of businesses and organizations, while men gravitate towards tasks. She said that women will become the dominant gender and will be in a position of dictating what the ideal man should be.
She said the reason why so many women are getting breast implants now is because men have defined big boobs as part of the ideal female form. But what if men found themselves having to please women for their own survival? How would the ideal male form be defined?
Strong, muscular, tall bodies are desired by women today because they need to feel protected and provided for. But what if women could protect and provide for themselves? Would they still desire a strong man?
Ms Julia thinks that men will instead evolve into sex objects, not so much as protectors and providers. Basically, they will be valued in the way women have been valued historically, for their sexual qualities.
Men will be judged by their youth, their good looks, their hot bodies, and their big cocks.
It's not to say, however, that I possess all of those characteristics. Ms Julia has her own ideas of what her ideal male companion should look like, and how he should be treated. She prefers men with boyish appearance and boyish demeanor. She prefers men physically smaller and weaker than she.
Also important to her is loyal he is, and how well he obeys. She demands immediate compliance without any questioning or doubt. She needs to know that I am on her side 100%, and would do anything she asked.
It seems I'm often tested too.
I remember the first time I learned how important it is not to question her. She parked the car in the parking lot of a shopping center, then opened my door.
"Come on" she said, asking me to step out. Considering I am fully nude, I expected to remain in the car.
"But I can't go out there." I said to her.
She made an upset expression, and then yanked my arm and dragged me out of the car. I fell to the ground. She grabbed my face and spoke in a very angry tone that I was to never question her and must always comply right away. I got up and saw people looking at me. We walked into a financial planning office which is run by one of her domme friends. She had brought me there to test me.
Anyway, there was a time, perhaps still is, when men demanded absolute loyalty and compliance from their women. Ms Julia is effectively demanding the same.
Making a New Sub Friend
It's not often I get to speak freely, but last night I had a rare opportunity.
Ms Julia and I drove to pick up one of her domme friends and sub, and from there we drove on to a fetish club in another town. Ms Julia and her friend sat up front while us subs sat in the back seat.
The other sub is a girl whom I described in an earlier post as Sub Female 2. She's quite social while her domme is more quiet and intellectual. She's not bound by a, "speak only when spoken to" rule like I am, and started conversing with me.
Ms Julia allowed me to speak freely with her, while she and her friend remained engaged in their own dialog.
"Don't you ever get cold?" Sub Female 2 asked me, referring to my 24/7 state of nudity.
"You learn to deal with it when you have no other option." I said.
She found it fascinating, and we continued to compare our lifestyles as subs.
I learned that she and her domme both own their home. Meanwhile, Ms Julia owns our home herself, while I own zero belongings. Sub Female 2 still makes her own decisions, like what to wear, what to eat, what to buy. Meanwhile, I have nothing to wear, eat only what is brought to me, and have no money at all.
I learned that she and her domme both own their home. Meanwhile, Ms Julia owns our home herself, while I own zero belongings. Sub Female 2 still makes her own decisions, like what to wear, what to eat, what to buy. Meanwhile, I have nothing to wear, eat only what is brought to me, and have no money at all.
Even though I've met other subs in the domme group that Ms Julia belongs to, and in the fetish club we go to, I haven't been able to compare lifestyles with other subs.
Her life as a sub sounds much less structured than mine. For one, she and her domme are married to each other. Their D/S lifestyle is more of a partnership whereas Ms Julia is quite the master and I'm her pet, slave, and boy. But Sub Female 2 is much more of a masochist than I. She enjoys pain and punishment. Myself, I do take some spankings and some aggressive handling from Ms Julia, but she hasn't taken sadism to the level that Sub Female 2 wants.
Which makes me question who's really running their lifestyle, Sub Female 2, or her domme?
Not that I am to judge. They both have fun with it, and that's all that matters.
However, I found myself really enjoying the ride with her. Sub Female 2 was very kind and sweet, something that really made me feel good inside, and made me feel good about myself. I hope we get more opportunities like this.
Investing Myself In Another Person's Happiness
Dana visited today to touch up on any regrowth that occurred from the last treatment a month ago,
For the most part, very little has grown back, but there's still some nagging hairs in the pubic area that come back, along with some on my legs. Otherwise, she's done a pretty good job of lasering them away.
Apparently, Ms. Julia reminded her of the area that she hasn't been able to do very well.
"It's just tough to get into that space" Dana said.
Laying on my belly the whole time, I felt very much like a piece of property that Ms. Julia was having customized, like a dog getting its ears cropped, or its tail docked. It was permanent, and without my consent.
There's a part of me that says its OK, because I will be Ms. Julia's property forever, and there's no need to think about the future. On the other hand, this hair removal is permanent, and I'm now 100% bare. Is it wise for me to put all my eggs into this basket?
I've lived my life believing that there's only now, and no such thing as the past or future. That is, preparing for the future is futile because there's no way to know what the future holds. I may as well go all in right now, in everything I do.
I mean, just a year ago I could never have predicted I would be living with a woman, as some kind of boy slave, servant, or pet. I was certain to spend my life dating men, trying to earn a living in the music industry. Yet here I am, painting a woman's toenails, offering her companionship, and being her sex toy.
The truth is that we each build on top of what we are now. There are no wrong turns in life. There's only what we make of it. If you're on your deathbed, and you can look back on your life and feel content that you lived a good one, that's all that matters.
It's some kind of feminization to have all body hair removed, because I strangely feel feminine in the way bed sheets drape against my skin. I feel more naked in the sunshine and in the breeze. The way Ms. Julia runs her hand across my body makes me feel more submissive.
I feel myself desiring her happiness. I want her to be pleased with how soft and smooth my cock feels in her hands. I suppose most straight guys couldn't give a shot what a woman thinks of them. But yet, I find myself hoping and praying that Ms. Julia will be satisfied.
For the most part, very little has grown back, but there's still some nagging hairs in the pubic area that come back, along with some on my legs. Otherwise, she's done a pretty good job of lasering them away.
Apparently, Ms. Julia reminded her of the area that she hasn't been able to do very well.
"It's just tough to get into that space" Dana said.
Laying on my belly the whole time, I felt very much like a piece of property that Ms. Julia was having customized, like a dog getting its ears cropped, or its tail docked. It was permanent, and without my consent.
There's a part of me that says its OK, because I will be Ms. Julia's property forever, and there's no need to think about the future. On the other hand, this hair removal is permanent, and I'm now 100% bare. Is it wise for me to put all my eggs into this basket?
I've lived my life believing that there's only now, and no such thing as the past or future. That is, preparing for the future is futile because there's no way to know what the future holds. I may as well go all in right now, in everything I do.
I mean, just a year ago I could never have predicted I would be living with a woman, as some kind of boy slave, servant, or pet. I was certain to spend my life dating men, trying to earn a living in the music industry. Yet here I am, painting a woman's toenails, offering her companionship, and being her sex toy.
The truth is that we each build on top of what we are now. There are no wrong turns in life. There's only what we make of it. If you're on your deathbed, and you can look back on your life and feel content that you lived a good one, that's all that matters.
It's some kind of feminization to have all body hair removed, because I strangely feel feminine in the way bed sheets drape against my skin. I feel more naked in the sunshine and in the breeze. The way Ms. Julia runs her hand across my body makes me feel more submissive.
I feel myself desiring her happiness. I want her to be pleased with how soft and smooth my cock feels in her hands. I suppose most straight guys couldn't give a shot what a woman thinks of them. But yet, I find myself hoping and praying that Ms. Julia will be satisfied.
She Has Friends But I Don't
The whole Facebook friends issue that I wrote about earlier is still on my mind.
The thing is that I don't have any friends at this point. I'm being kept by Ms. Julia in this guest house all day long with no one to see or speak to, other than Fatima who comes in to bring me my breakfast and lunch. Certainly, I can consider Ms. Julia to be a friend, but I need someone else to talk to, a third person who I can confide in, open up to, express to, trust and know who loves me back.
Ms. Julia already knows about my loneliness, but she knows what she wants and is emphatic about getting it. I suppose I can't blame someone for sticking to their guns. And considering I'm already getting a lot back in exchange for the dedication I've committed to, it's hard for me to complain.
On this laptop, I can only be a ghost. I can read what others have written but not communicate back. I can leave my thoughts on this blog, but not I'm not allowed to interact with my readers. It's what she wants, complete dedication and no input from others.
But what does that do to a human being over time?
Ms. Julia has friends professionally and socially. She has a domme group she's a part of. She goes on business trips, goes to conventions, has a staff of employees, and numerous people she confides in.
I only have what she gives me.
She reads what I write here, and for the most part, this is my only avenue for speaking to her. Otherwise, I'm only allowed to speak when spoken to.
I wonder what took place in her past that shaped her in the way she is today. Did a man abuse her? Did highschool girls make fun of her? Did a mother steal her childhood?
Because I can understand. I know what it's like to be isolated, neglected, disrespected, and angry. But where I tend to run away from confrontation, Ms. Julia tends to fight. Somewhere in our pasts, our neural pathways took different turns to make me who I am and to make her who she is.
You could say that we're a good fit together in this regards. I'm still dedicated to be what she wants, but struggling to get what I need. Perhaps it's all part of her long term plans for me. I'm just glad that I can at least write.
The thing is that I don't have any friends at this point. I'm being kept by Ms. Julia in this guest house all day long with no one to see or speak to, other than Fatima who comes in to bring me my breakfast and lunch. Certainly, I can consider Ms. Julia to be a friend, but I need someone else to talk to, a third person who I can confide in, open up to, express to, trust and know who loves me back.
Ms. Julia already knows about my loneliness, but she knows what she wants and is emphatic about getting it. I suppose I can't blame someone for sticking to their guns. And considering I'm already getting a lot back in exchange for the dedication I've committed to, it's hard for me to complain.
On this laptop, I can only be a ghost. I can read what others have written but not communicate back. I can leave my thoughts on this blog, but not I'm not allowed to interact with my readers. It's what she wants, complete dedication and no input from others.
But what does that do to a human being over time?
Ms. Julia has friends professionally and socially. She has a domme group she's a part of. She goes on business trips, goes to conventions, has a staff of employees, and numerous people she confides in.
I only have what she gives me.
She reads what I write here, and for the most part, this is my only avenue for speaking to her. Otherwise, I'm only allowed to speak when spoken to.
I wonder what took place in her past that shaped her in the way she is today. Did a man abuse her? Did highschool girls make fun of her? Did a mother steal her childhood?
Because I can understand. I know what it's like to be isolated, neglected, disrespected, and angry. But where I tend to run away from confrontation, Ms. Julia tends to fight. Somewhere in our pasts, our neural pathways took different turns to make me who I am and to make her who she is.
You could say that we're a good fit together in this regards. I'm still dedicated to be what she wants, but struggling to get what I need. Perhaps it's all part of her long term plans for me. I'm just glad that I can at least write.
Banned From Using Facebook
I've been banned from using Facebook.
After posting my last article about what people say about me on Facebook, Ms. Julia became angry about me being on Facebook, or any social network for that matter. Her original instruction was that I am not allowed to connect with other people with this laptop. I initially thought it meant e-mailing, or chatting. I hadn't considered social networks, even though I was using a new Facebook account under a name no one would recognize.
Ms. Julia likes the idea of her sending me e-mails when she's out, and of me reading articles, watching videos, and writing this blog. She just doesn't want me building relationships with others.
At first, I felt this want to stand up for myself, and had actually did when she asked why I had disobeyed her orders. I had asked back why I couldn't just limit my interaction to just Facebook, and do so as a complete stranger. She had responded back asking if she wasn't enough for me, and if I needed more than being her companion. Of course, I knew that I could be replaced with another boy. It's certainly not my desire to make her feel inadequate or unimportant.
There was some punishment in the form of whipping from her crop, followed by having to sit in a coat closet, in total darkness, for 12 hours.
But that wasn't all. Ms. Julia remained rather disappointed for the next several days, and somehow that felt worse for me. Even though I was still having dinner with her, and still sleeping in bed with her, her anger kept me feeling nervous. It was only this weekend that she seemed to have gotten over it.
"It hurts me that you turn to other people for your needs", she said. "That's what I am having trouble with. If am not enough for you, then you cannot stay here."
I apologized again, and assured her that she is all that I could ever need and want.
After posting my last article about what people say about me on Facebook, Ms. Julia became angry about me being on Facebook, or any social network for that matter. Her original instruction was that I am not allowed to connect with other people with this laptop. I initially thought it meant e-mailing, or chatting. I hadn't considered social networks, even though I was using a new Facebook account under a name no one would recognize.
Ms. Julia likes the idea of her sending me e-mails when she's out, and of me reading articles, watching videos, and writing this blog. She just doesn't want me building relationships with others.
At first, I felt this want to stand up for myself, and had actually did when she asked why I had disobeyed her orders. I had asked back why I couldn't just limit my interaction to just Facebook, and do so as a complete stranger. She had responded back asking if she wasn't enough for me, and if I needed more than being her companion. Of course, I knew that I could be replaced with another boy. It's certainly not my desire to make her feel inadequate or unimportant.
There was some punishment in the form of whipping from her crop, followed by having to sit in a coat closet, in total darkness, for 12 hours.
But that wasn't all. Ms. Julia remained rather disappointed for the next several days, and somehow that felt worse for me. Even though I was still having dinner with her, and still sleeping in bed with her, her anger kept me feeling nervous. It was only this weekend that she seemed to have gotten over it.
"It hurts me that you turn to other people for your needs", she said. "That's what I am having trouble with. If am not enough for you, then you cannot stay here."
I apologized again, and assured her that she is all that I could ever need and want.
What They Say On Facebook About Me
Facebook can be a real let down.
I discovered that a couple of friends I had, or thought I had, never thought much of me.
Over the past few weeks that I've had this laptop, I created a new Facebook account under a pseudonym, and had followed many of my old friends. Quite a few of them friended me back, not knowing who I really am. Someone mentioned in a comment about not having heard from me for many months, and wondered what happened.
"His last post was on August 28, 2015", commented one person.
"WTF?" commented another
"Are you talking about that dipshit?" someone else chimed in.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" answered another
"Yeah, that dude was weird", one person answered.
I guess maybe, I'm just sensitive. Maybe I shouldn't be looking at Facebook if I can't handle what people say behind by back. I can only imagine what they will say when I die.
I feel like such a ghost now, haunting social media. I get to hear what people say about me when I'm not around.
But what about other people who now know me as Ms. Julia's "boy" or "personal servant"? Do they think I'm weird too? Am I a dipshit to them also?
If anything, Ms. Julia and the other dommes and subs that associate with her see me as the true soul that I am. This person who struggles with co-dependency, low self-esteem, shame, and self-pity, somehow feels right at home being subservient to a much superior domme. I can be my real self to her and her fellow dommes, I can show my true colors to their subs, and feel comfortable about being low on the totem pole. Strangely, it actually feels good.
On the one hand, you cannot go through life worrying about what other people think about you. But saying it is one thing, and doing it is another. I can't help but want to confirm what I already believe about myself.
It makes me feel more safe being Ms. Julia's boy. I get to hide from the world while being totally exposed to her and her friends. It's like confirming my pity to those who accept me as subservient, and not having to confront those who make a mockery of me.
I discovered that a couple of friends I had, or thought I had, never thought much of me.
Over the past few weeks that I've had this laptop, I created a new Facebook account under a pseudonym, and had followed many of my old friends. Quite a few of them friended me back, not knowing who I really am. Someone mentioned in a comment about not having heard from me for many months, and wondered what happened.
"His last post was on August 28, 2015", commented one person.
"WTF?" commented another
"Are you talking about that dipshit?" someone else chimed in.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" answered another
"Yeah, that dude was weird", one person answered.
I guess maybe, I'm just sensitive. Maybe I shouldn't be looking at Facebook if I can't handle what people say behind by back. I can only imagine what they will say when I die.
I feel like such a ghost now, haunting social media. I get to hear what people say about me when I'm not around.
But what about other people who now know me as Ms. Julia's "boy" or "personal servant"? Do they think I'm weird too? Am I a dipshit to them also?
If anything, Ms. Julia and the other dommes and subs that associate with her see me as the true soul that I am. This person who struggles with co-dependency, low self-esteem, shame, and self-pity, somehow feels right at home being subservient to a much superior domme. I can be my real self to her and her fellow dommes, I can show my true colors to their subs, and feel comfortable about being low on the totem pole. Strangely, it actually feels good.
On the one hand, you cannot go through life worrying about what other people think about you. But saying it is one thing, and doing it is another. I can't help but want to confirm what I already believe about myself.
It makes me feel more safe being Ms. Julia's boy. I get to hide from the world while being totally exposed to her and her friends. It's like confirming my pity to those who accept me as subservient, and not having to confront those who make a mockery of me.
Second Thursday of the Month
The femdom group that Ms. Julia participates meets every second Thursday night of the month. Last night we traveled to another domme's home as it was her time to host.
One would think that traveling in car would offer me the opportunity to wear clothing, but the tinted windows in the back seat keep me well concealed.
Most bring their subs with them, often adorning them in arm bands, hair pieces, and draped in cloths that are more humiliating than anything. Some dommes take the time to dress themselves up as well, in leather or other tight fitting garments of dominance.
There's a 50/50 mix of sub males and sub females.
Only myself remains fully nude, except for a collar. One other female wears a sheer white tunic that fails to hide anything at all.
We gather around in the living room, with dommes seated in chairs, and subs kneeling on the carpet next to their masters. They mostly talk about their experiences in training their subjects. Often time, the discussion gets side tracked into topics of gossip about whichever domme failed to show up. Ms. Julia is often calm and quiet, and therefore always gets attention when she speaks.
I'm often amazed at how diverse the group is.
Sub Female 1: Lives separately from her domme, and chooses to participate in this kind of relationship, allowing herself to be swatted with a stick.
Sub Female 2: Married to her domme, and is quite social while her other half is more intellectual and quiet.
Male Sub 1: Appears to be as young as I am, but a more tall and muscular. He could easily overpower his domme and make a mockery of her, but she manages to keep him placated with motherly strokes of her hand and gentle words of praise.
Male Sub 2: In his 40s it appears, wears this pink, lacy negligee with his body hair sticking out. He totally doesn't look at all submissive, and perhaps is doing it just to make his wife happy.
Male Sub 3: Younger guy, thin, is the only other sub, who like me, lives with his domme but is not married to her. He's caged as well, but is always overly anxious, like he's constantly worried about doing something wrong.
Male Sub 4: Young, very well built and proportioned, and very handsome. He's very obedient, follows his domme perfectly, opens the door for her, knows when to refill her cup, and never seems to care what other people are thinking.
Male Sub 5: Wears leather straps and what appears to be some kind of Mexican wrestling mask. He's more beefy built, and appears to act more as her bodyguard than a sub.
And then there's me.
Male Sub 3 always intrigues me. I see him as most like myself. However, he's more co-dependent. Not saying that I'm not, I know I have co-dependency issues too. It's just too easy to tell that he's constantly tripping over himself to get her approval. I feel sorry, genuinely sorry, that people submit themselves to a more dominant person out of feelings of worthlessness. I guess I often go through that issue myself.
I get the sense that he too lives with his domme under some kind of situation where he's better off with her than without. That is, we both have the freedom to leave, but realizing that the situation is much better if we stayed.
In other words, freedom is just another set of responsibilities. You can choose to accept them and learn to become self-sufficient, so that you can protect yourself and care for your needs. Or, you can choose to give up that freedom, live under someone else's rule, even to the point of becoming brainwashed, just for that same protection and care. You can become proud of your independence, but so can you be proud of your servitude. Both are just means of survival.
One of the dommes last night pointed out, "I think a sub should be proud to serve."
Back Home with a Vengeance
Ms. Julia finally returned home from her business trip late last Saturday night. I was finally called in from spending the last several weeks isolated in the guest home.
That night Ms. Julia was expectedly exhausted after a long day of flights and stopovers. I was sure she just wanted to go right to bed, but it seemed, somehow, that she was too happy to.
I had to admit, I was really happy to see her too. I mean, spending the past few weeks in the small confines of the guest house, with no one to talk to other than Fatima browsing in to bring me my meals and do some light clean up, felt like prison. At least now, I was with my master who wanted nothing more than to lay in bed with me, tell me about her trip, and show me some photos on her cellphone.
These homecomings seems like the best of times because I feel more like a friend to her, and less like a slave, or personal servant. She talks to me with great excitement about the people she met, the business prospects she collected, and strange new places she visited. In these moments, I congratulate her, praise her, and listen in awe to help keep the elation going. It's just part of why she keeps me.
Afterwards, there was some intense pegging due to her starved sexual appetite. There were moments when I considered using my safeword because the intensity was getting too much for me, but I never did. I wanted her to get everything she wanted from me. We finished the session with me helping her achieve an orgasm. We fell asleep soon after.
The following day, Ms. Julia only wanted to lay in bed and watch television all afternoon and evening long. She had Fatima prepare light lunches and dinners with snacks in between. That night again, there more was intense pegging, following up another orgasm for her.
And then next night, she actually removed the cage and fucked me from atop.
This afternoon, I find myself back in the guest house. She had returned to her office to resume work.
So now, I feel regenerated too. Yes, we're back to a routine, but it's a better routine than just being isolated all day and night. Otherwise, it's the loneliness that makes this life suck. But, the interaction with my master, as intense and aggressive it can sometimes be, is quite rewarding.
That night Ms. Julia was expectedly exhausted after a long day of flights and stopovers. I was sure she just wanted to go right to bed, but it seemed, somehow, that she was too happy to.
I had to admit, I was really happy to see her too. I mean, spending the past few weeks in the small confines of the guest house, with no one to talk to other than Fatima browsing in to bring me my meals and do some light clean up, felt like prison. At least now, I was with my master who wanted nothing more than to lay in bed with me, tell me about her trip, and show me some photos on her cellphone.
These homecomings seems like the best of times because I feel more like a friend to her, and less like a slave, or personal servant. She talks to me with great excitement about the people she met, the business prospects she collected, and strange new places she visited. In these moments, I congratulate her, praise her, and listen in awe to help keep the elation going. It's just part of why she keeps me.
Afterwards, there was some intense pegging due to her starved sexual appetite. There were moments when I considered using my safeword because the intensity was getting too much for me, but I never did. I wanted her to get everything she wanted from me. We finished the session with me helping her achieve an orgasm. We fell asleep soon after.
The following day, Ms. Julia only wanted to lay in bed and watch television all afternoon and evening long. She had Fatima prepare light lunches and dinners with snacks in between. That night again, there more was intense pegging, following up another orgasm for her.
And then next night, she actually removed the cage and fucked me from atop.
This afternoon, I find myself back in the guest house. She had returned to her office to resume work.
So now, I feel regenerated too. Yes, we're back to a routine, but it's a better routine than just being isolated all day and night. Otherwise, it's the loneliness that makes this life suck. But, the interaction with my master, as intense and aggressive it can sometimes be, is quite rewarding.
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