Self-conquest is really self-surrender. Yet before we can surrender ourselves we must become ourselves. For no one can give up what he does not possess. -- Thomas Merton
1.
England found himself finally in, after about half an hour of waiting in line. The bar smelled of cologne, perfume and alcohol, but it wasn’t an unpleasant smell, it was rather intoxicating. He stood in the door for a moment taking his time to assimilate that he was here…finally.
The decision of coming hadn’t been taken lightly, he was, after all, a nation and he had a reputation to take care of. Besides, there were his personal issues and monsters, shame being the biggest one of them.
It burnt him, creating a hole in his heart every time he wanted to finally give up everything. His cheeks flared red as his body responded to the now common fantasies of an unknown someone taking over, leaving him raw and open.
The word insanity was the first thing to come to his mind, so he brushed off the odd tickling in his stomach as a mere fantasy, and nothing else. But, the days became longer and the weight on his shoulders heavier; sex was no longer enough, even when he trusted one of his lovers enough to take him senseless.
He wanted more, needed more, and not just in sex, but in his life.
It was clear in his mind, that it was all about control. All his life he had been forced to take it, over his colonies, his country, his people, his wars, and he was sick of it. Ready to give it all up, to throw the weight onto someone else’s shoulders, but he couldn’t do that. He was after all “England”, Conqueror of more than half of the globe, and feared Pirate ruler of the seven seas.
That’s why he turned to the lifestyle; “D/s” he liked to call it, as if to escape of the true meaning of the two letters. But in less subtle lines, and if England ever wanted to say the straight forward truth: “Dominance & Submission” and that’s exactly what he wanted, to submit to someone completely, without it interfering directly with other aspects of his life.
He had looked everywhere, the internet being his fellow companion during sleepless nights. Forums, chartrooms, dating places, online dungeons, blogs, England digested everything. There were books too.
He still remembered the day he checked out “The story of O” from the library, the look in the librarian’s face had mortified him, setting his cheeks on fire; but it had all been worth it…oh so worth it. Every time “O” was bent over and punished, or taken roughly from behind, it sent waves of heat directly to his groin. He had always been a very fast reader, but it took him over two weeks to finish the book, every word, every sentence, every paragraph, combined made his body react in ways he wasn’t sure he wanted it to. His hand reached every night to stroke his own body. And he came harder every day until he couldn’t read more, too exhausted to even glance at the book he always left open in his night table.
The edge 1/?
The Edge.
Self-conquest is really self-surrender. Yet before we can surrender ourselves we must become ourselves. For no one can give up what he does not possess. -- Thomas Merton
1.
England found himself finally in, after about half an hour of waiting in line. The bar smelled of cologne, perfume and alcohol, but it wasn’t an unpleasant smell, it was rather intoxicating. He stood in the door for a moment taking his time to assimilate that he was here…finally.
The decision of coming hadn’t been taken lightly, he was, after all, a nation and he had a reputation to take care of. Besides, there were his personal issues and monsters, shame being the biggest one of them.
It burnt him, creating a hole in his heart every time he wanted to finally give up everything. His cheeks flared red as his body responded to the now common fantasies of an unknown someone taking over, leaving him raw and open.
The word insanity was the first thing to come to his mind, so he brushed off the odd tickling in his stomach as a mere fantasy, and nothing else. But, the days became longer and the weight on his shoulders heavier; sex was no longer enough, even when he trusted one of his lovers enough to take him senseless.
He wanted more, needed more, and not just in sex, but in his life.
It was clear in his mind, that it was all about control. All his life he had been forced to take it, over his colonies, his country, his people, his wars, and he was sick of it. Ready to give it all up, to throw the weight onto someone else’s shoulders, but he couldn’t do that. He was after all “England”, Conqueror of more than half of the globe, and feared Pirate ruler of the seven seas.
That’s why he turned to the lifestyle; “D/s” he liked to call it, as if to escape of the true meaning of the two letters. But in less subtle lines, and if England ever wanted to say the straight forward truth: “Dominance & Submission” and that’s exactly what he wanted, to submit to someone completely, without it interfering directly with other aspects of his life.
He had looked everywhere, the internet being his fellow companion during sleepless nights. Forums, chartrooms, dating places, online dungeons, blogs, England digested everything. There were books too.
He still remembered the day he checked out “The story of O” from the library, the look in the librarian’s face had mortified him, setting his cheeks on fire; but it had all been worth it…oh so worth it. Every time “O” was bent over and punished, or taken roughly from behind, it sent waves of heat directly to his groin. He had always been a very fast reader, but it took him over two weeks to finish the book, every word, every sentence, every paragraph, combined made his body react in ways he wasn’t sure he wanted it to. His hand reached every night to stroke his own body. And he came harder every day until he couldn’t read more, too exhausted to even glance at the book he always left open in his night table.