The path to my truth

My first recollection of my desire to submit to a man, was at about the age of 3.

In those days, the local milkman was a well known friend of the street, talking to his customers saying hi to the kids and generally starting out people’s day with a smile as he dropped off their daily milk orders.

man s hand in shallow focus and grayscale photography
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The old milk floats had blue leather chairs. And as a little boy with the other kids saying Hi to the milkman was common. Only, i didn’t say much when in his presence. Looking into his eyes seemed daunting. He was big. He was so much bigger than me. Strong. Charming. And the seat underneath his arse had started to lose it’s colour. Less blue and more yellow. Like the colour of egg yolks.

Each time i saw him i would be a little excited. I wondered in my little kid brain how his seat got so yellow. I wondered if it was because he liked to sit on people’s heads. Squash them while he dropped off the milk. Crush squash and squeeze my little head under his arse until the yolk came out from inside. Such were the thoughts of his 3 year old.

This wasn’t the only memory from early childhood of the need for real men to take me. Pretty much all masculine men were fascinating. What they were capable of. How hypnotic their aura was. How utterly i needed it around me.

beach couple fun happiness
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He-man. A cartoon. Representing everything i needed a man to be. Many a time i imagined being so small and dropped inside his pants to get trapped in his over-sized gonads, unable to escape the smell and size of his massive balls.

There was the martial arts instructor. I wanted him to defeat me so badly. In every way. Why didn’t he just kidnap me and keep me in his basement? I didn’t understand what i had to do to make him want me. I got good at Karate. That was about as much as i could do to impress him. He even picked me out for competition. And now I think about it, there was that one lesson he taught me. I had to add this as an edit because I hadn’t notice the poignancy at first. In Shotokan karate lessons, everyone moves through the movements in unison. Everyone has the same foot forward at the same time, left then right then left. On one occasion he personally attended my group and I followed his instructions to the letter. Only for some reason, I had my left foot forward and everyone had their right foot forward at the end. I saw him looking at me so I quickly switched my pose to match the others. He asked me directly, why I switched my position? And of course I said what any kid would say, everyone else had their right foot forward…

He said to me, never do what everyone else is doing. You were right. They were wrong. Go back to your left foot forward. I did. I remembered. It stuck with me.

There were plenty of teachers i wanted to be used by. When i was old enough there were plenty of lessons spent lost in visions of being trapped under his desk while he taught, unable to escape his man groin in my face. Unable to do anything but what i’m told. My school mates. Damn i needed putting down by them, controlling and using. Couldn’t let them know though. Couldn’t let them see. That would be too much.

The best friend i fell in love with. We would fight often. Play fight. I would always lose. Always. But he would never quite finish the job. I knew by then what i wanted him to do. But we never quite got there. Because he wasn’t like me. He wasn’t a faggot.

But he did plenty to mess with my mind be in no doubt. Some level I must have been the sub to his dominance. He wasted no time in humiliating me bullying me, and owning my mind in many ways. It was a natural fit. I just didn’t understand it or have the words to describe it. He owned me in any way a lad can be owned by another. We just never fucked.

I did get some cock in my teens. Random friend and i messed a couple of times. And i got plenty when i moved to Soho and got a job in a straight pub.  Nowehere was 100% straight in Soho during the 90s. And i was young, apparently straight, and ripe for the plucking. Boy did i get plucked. And plucked and plucked.

photography of a person pointing on something
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And of course on the advice of my straight older brother i did come out to my father and a few people in general. My father’s response was that it made sense, and he’d always known there was something missing. Guess he knew what he was talking about.

It was great.

It wasn’t until much later on though in a relationship that was plainly mutually abusive, that i got worn down enough to let an ex-con addicted to methadone into my home and into my life. He fucked me every which way from centre. And i always went back for more. He drained me, fucked me, hit me and used me. And i always got on my knees when he told me to. Again, i had no idea i was being dominated. I always maintained the belief i was a normal guy, gay maybe, but normal.

He raped me. And I’m guessing that was the turning point. The point at which i became truly submissive. And finally learned my place.

Which will be why when he left, i invited a dominant ex-soldier into my life. He had moved in within 2 weeks of meeting me. He’s taken over every aspect of my life within days and i was completely trapped within his control. The domination had become conscious at this stage, i knew what was happening and it felt like what i should be doing. It felt like what i was, and what i was for. And it lasted for years to whatever extent he wanted it to.

I got away with only a broken shoulder thankfully. He never ended me, I guess i was lucky. Because i was less than perfect at submitting. Eventually he let me go. He didn’t need me as much as he used to and i was doing ok at my job. So letting me go got me out of the way for him to lead a more normal life and i lived fairly normally for quite a while!

But of course someone like me never lives normally forever. Eventually the right material, the right person and the right website comes along, and I find it. And i read it and absorb it all the while telling myself I’m normal, it’s just a buzz. I still have control. I’m still straight acting. I’m not like these other fags who get pissed on and used in kink, leather and all that, that’s not me. I’m normal. I’m ok.

But who was I kidding? When was sex with a gay guy ever fully satisfying? When was i ever not obsessing over straight men, and what it would be to be owned by one again? Why was i so obsessed with straight men?

man in blue shorts carrying brown exercise equipments
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Because i was born that way. it’s obvious. It’s not the sort of thing a gay guy is allowed to admit, it doesn’t fit with the left-wing ideals of equality for all, gay marriage, gay rights, gay equality. To submit to straight men means a gay man is less than them. It means what so many gay men fight for is undermined. It means they can attack the straight man who interacts with a sub gay, for claiming to still be straight, and try to pigeon hole him into a box that fits more with their world view. Their underlying belief that all straight men are secretly curious or gay.

But you know, once u start being honest with yourself, and look back across the course of your life, if you’re like me, you’ll know. You’ve always aspired to please straight men, sexually mainly, but in any way when it comes down to it. you’ve always looked up at them as if they’re everything you’re not. you’ve always known you don’t match them. You can’t compete. Maybe in specific ways you can do better sure. Maybe you have a skill. Maybe you’re good at something. That’s ok. That’s allowed. But overall, how can you ever compete with the man who’s at the centre of everything? How can you ever compete with a man capable of creating life and a family and who is able to fit in socially with everyone and anyone because of his natural lifestyle? How can you ever actually be fully in control of your life if you’re not a straight man? You’re always going to have to submit to the wishes of someone in some way in order to just survive as a gay man. You can never achieve the kind of control a straight man can over himself or others.

And eventually, preferably sooner than later, if you admit this and see the truth, and stop being a pretend-man, you’ll enjoy pleasures and pains you can only begin to imagine. This kind of total power exchange is the ultimate progression for a true submissive.

I’ll say no more for now. Except, just think about it. And tell me how I’m wrong..

 

2 thoughts on “The path to my truth

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    Liked by 1 person

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