Submission in 2020

Unprecedented times. Perfect for exploring your complete submission to Straight Alpha Men!

I’ve been lucky so far this year. Despite lock-down in the UK, i still manage to serve a Straight Alpha man all day every day. He was here when the lock-down began and didn’t leave!

This particular Alpha is pretty consistent. Not phased by adapting to the circumstances he finds himself in, capable of self-management, before I knew it, he’d set up a home gym in the garden, using some light free-weights, ropes and the wooden frame on the side of the treehouse he’d already built when things were normal.

It’s a treehouse in the sense it’s a house in a tree. But of course it’s designed with other things in mind. It’s dry inside, there are windows on one side, an entrance hall with a partition and a bar-style window on one side, solid wall with no window on the other. There’s a hole in the floor in one corner which leads to a covered ‘basement’ underneath where I see a rack and various tying apparatus. And as we speak he’s fitting a ceramic urinal above the hole.

It hasn’t been said or even implied this may become where I live, I doubt that’s what he has in mind. But anything’s possible with an Alpha.

He’s not my owner. I’ve recently become contracted to a new Alpha, a straight footballer (that’s ‘Soccer player’ to the Yanks) with professional experience, and an utterly ruthless determination to milk inferiors for all they’re worth. And they’re in no short supply!

How I became contracted so quickly I’m not entirely sure. It was his idea. Once I’d confessed to him my history, I think he wanted to test out if what i was telling him was true. It’s a bit out there when a straight man first comes across a hypnotised Sub who cannot refuse straight men’s instructions.

A few orders fulfilled and he decided I was his. That was that, I signed the contract and now I don’t know what the future holds.

I don’t need to know. He is a real Alpha. He really will know best as things unfold what’s best for me, for him, for the world. And I submit. That’s what I was born to do.

The first time I meet him it’s a car wash he has demanded. Cleaning his car in front of his work place, his builder colleagues milling about, straight Alphas every single one. And they know. I can tell they know that I’m a Sub. He’s probably told them. They don’t exactly treat me differently, it’s just there’s a vibe. Like when I’m around they’re aware, and they’re conscious of everything I do or say. Almost like they’re waiting to see how a faggot behaves, unsure whether it’ll be obvious with everything i do or if it’s hidden behind the facade of normality, barely perceptible to them if they hadn’t been prepped.

There’s a genuine sense of uncharted territory and mystery in the air, and it seems to me it’s because each and every one is curious about what they might be able to do, say or experience. I feel like a 21st century muse. Some kind of living breathing focal point for one of the defining questions of our time. What is a man? What is an Alpha? And what do they do when they have an inferior so clearly willing to submit? Even Inferiors can dream.

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.

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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 laid 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.  Nowhere was 100% straight in Soho during the 90’s. And i was young, apparently straight, and ripe for the plucking. Boy did i get plucked. And plucked and plucked.

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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, with addictions, 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..