Cock Hate

I'll admit, the title of this post is probably a little misleading, but for once I wanted a title with a bit of impact!

For quite some time now, I've had a very strong desire to get my cock circumcised. I've had these desires for a while, at least a couple of years, but a few days ago me and Daddy had a full-on discussion about it. He does not share my desire for circumcision, and was desperate to figure out why I wanted to do this. I had to be honest with him - a lot of it was simply gut feeling, that I wanted to do it and that "it would look better".

Daddy was entirely dissatisfied with that, and decided to keep pushing - was I willing to deal with the repercussions? Of the pain and breaking of stitches, of the reduction in sensitivity, etc etc. Was this really something I was willing to do just for something cosmetic? Of course, even with these perfectly good points, I've been wanting this for years, and I wasn't going to just give up there. But Daddy kept at me. "I'm not sure that you've entirely thought this through. You've never been entirely at peace with your body, especially your cock, in fact you've occasionally had quite violent thoughts against it. Is this you just bring out your general self-hatred on your body?"

I had to admit, I didn't have a good response to this. It's been a long time since I've actually confronted that part of my psyche. I've been focusing so much on the positive aspects of my life, on being happy with the direction my life is taking, that I've been completely neglecting the other side of the equation. Whether I'm happy with myself.

And I'm not, really. I'm a horribly insecure person, who believes, quite honestly, that I'm a terrible, horrible person, who spends most of his social effort putting out such a wonderful image of myself that no one could possibly see the horrible person I believe myself to be. So much of my mental time is spent papering over that particular truth.

And, now that I think about it, I think Daddy might well be right. I've never had the healthiest relationship with my cock, or my genitals in general. During the first stages of our relationship, I cursed them for not doing what I wanted them to do. During one particular night when I was performing at a sex party, I even said that I was so angry that I wanted to rip it off. And I think about a lot of fetishes that I'm interested in, like CBT, and chastity, and how so many of my mental fantasies seem to involve modifying my cock or causing pain to my cock, and yeah, it kinda all falls into place, really - I really do hate my cock, a lot, but I think that's just me forcing a lot of my general self-hatred into what seems to be a safe target.

So, after a whole lot more pain and talking, Daddy told me in no uncertain terms that he wants me to actually tackle this whole self-hatred thing. If, after working on loving myself more, and feeling safer and more secure in my body, I still want to get myself circumcised, then he'll support me 100%. But, simply, he doesn't want me doing something I'll regret later, and I can't disagree with that.

But it's brought up a lot of other stuff. Is so much of my kinks really an aspect of this self-hatred, and is that really healthy for me? Daddy seems to think that it's probably a safe way of dealing with it, but I dunno. Maybe I need to change the way I work with those kinks, perhaps? I honestly don't know where to go with this information from here. How do you know what's healthy and what isn't? I mean, I'm not sure I trust introspection for this sort of stuff, since clearly my thought processes are a bit warped at this point. I'm not sure I can come to a healthy conclusion about this.

I guess, really, I should see a psychologist about this, but I'm not sure if there's a psychologist that could deal with this in a friendly-enough manner. How, exactly, do you tell a psychologist that you're actively engaging in causing pain to your genitals because you hate yourself, and that you want to explore that self-hatred, without the psych getting entirely the wrong impression? Even for a kink-friendly psychologist that'd have to be a bit of a stretch.

Or maybe I'm just projecting my own fear there. Trying to worm my way out of getting help. It's a common trait of mine. If I had any idea how to help myself from here it wouldn't be such a problem, but I'll be honest - I don't think I can help myself from here, I think I need an external voice, and this is not something Daddy can really help me with, or really should be his responsibility to help with.

Argh. I feel like I'm travelling around in circles at this point so I think I'll just stop the post there.

Desire and Play

So, a couple of days ago, Daddy was talking to me about an issue that he has with me - it never seems like I get excited about a lot of BDSM stuff. We don't often do a lot of scenes, and a lot of that is because Daddy doesn't seem me getting excited about a lot of things, and those things I am excited about, I'm either doing (like Service and Chastity), or we don't really have the money to make happen (like Violet Wands). I only seem to open up when Daddy tells me to - which is not the point of the endeavour. He wants me to be excited enough about things that I ask him to do them to me on my own accord.

I have to admit that he's on to something there. The lack of scene-type play is because a lot of the stuff I get excited about and like to do is kinda life-style, or very long-term things. Chastity is not really a scene-based kink, and service is something that could be scene-based, but in our case I make it a lifestyle.

Of course, as I was writing this blog post, I happen to see a very sexy picture on Fetlife, and decide to leave crumbs for Daddy to see. It's a picture of a man all tied up, his cock and balls being lifted by rope. The image itself is beautiful, but it totally got me turned on, and Daddy, clearly deciding this was a good thing, told me to strip and get his rope, and we did a slightly different, but still very fun enactment of the photo.

And then, he decided to put me in some predicament bondage, attaching the cock rope to my hair, and forcing it back. Which meant that I had to bend over quite dramatically in order to look down at all. I even decided to try stacking the dishwasher in that state, much to Daddy's amusement. This is all still in my cage, by the way, which by the end was hurting quite a bit, because I'm as hard as anything! Play session, while short, clearly a success!

So, the main thrust of this post is that I may be trawling for more sexy photos on Fetlife and Tumblr, and posting them around, because clearly it gets results! Also, if I had to be fair, It's a much more useful way for me to direct daddy to things I want done, since I often have such difficulty with words. Clearly I'll have to keep trying these things...

Other Hooked Up Thoughts

While I greatly enjoyed going to Hooked Up, I'm not going to lie - the fact that it was in a gay bar brought up a whole lot of feelings. Complicated, complicated feelings.

My teenage relationship with sex was really not a good one. As well as the Pornography Addiction, I've also had the tragic twink backstory of looking for love (well, in this case, sex) in all the wrong places. This was, by the by, before I was legal. It was the site of my first BDSM experience (which was entirely out of a porn story, meant that I never got to see the guy's face, and which left me crying in a toilet at the end because I couldn't deal), and in the end I walked away when I actually realised that I was going to sex lounges and wasn't enjoying it at all.

So, I haven't visited a sex-on-premises venue in years. After I was raped, it got even worse - even walking near a gay sex venue started to make me extremely uncomfortable. The thought of being hit on by other men became almost panic-inducing for a while. I've since started to get a little better than that, but that discomfort is still there.

And so, while I had an excellent time at Hooked Up, I still felt quite... uncomfortable for much of the time. I know that the place wasn't unsafe. It was an event where there were plenty of friends, both Daddy and the New Boy were there, but I just couldn't shake the associations of the place. I became so much happier when it was time to help Daddy with his work, because then I could focus on duty, for a change.

And as much as I understand that my past traumas are a part of myself, I'm not okay with it. I'm not okay with places having this kind of effect on me. I don't want to have issue with places I've never been, that I have no history at. I want to be able to go to a new place, and have a good time, be able to make good memories without that creeping feeling of unease.

Hooked Up

Last Sunday, me and Daddy went over to Hooked Up (a Hook Suspension event by The Hanged Man team) at Sircuit. Daddy was helping a friend of ours (actually the New Boy's Sir), and so I went along to help, and to hang out with a lot of our friends.

To be honest, I've loved going to Hooked Up events - at every event, there's this electric energy in the air, Everytime someone goes up in the air, the place erupts into cheers, as people push themselves, as newcomers to the events first look horrified, and then by the end of it are firmly hooked on the whole event as anyone else there.

My Daddy was helping The New Boy's Sir with a phenomenal pull, where his Mistress was suspended via rope, and then attached to his hooks. The New Boy's Sir would then crawl away from his Mistress, who would then be lifted into the air, all the while Daddy was doing energy exchange within the whole rig. It was absolutely phenomenal to watch, and while I'm usually hopeless in sensing the energy in the room, even I could feel the pulse of that scene. It was simply incredible, even if my job was mostly as roadie.

I have to admit to having mixed feelings about hook suspension. There's a part of me that really wants to give it a try, but I'm an absolute pansy - pain is not my game at all. I even have difficulty with a lot of rope suspensions, I'm not sure I'd be up for going up by hooks. But the fantasy, that rather appeals to me. Maybe one day, way, way, waaaaaay in the future, when I've conquered a few more of my fears, when I'm a little braver, when I can take a little more pain.

Then, maybe, we'll see what I'm made of.

Back in the Cage

So, after finally healing up from my previous bout of chastity, I've been back in the cage since last Friday. This time, I'm taking a leaf out of the New Boy's advice book, and I'm using some sillicone-based lube to stop the horrendous chafing that happened last adventure. So far, so good!

So, I've been in for the last couple of days, and it turns out, you have to get used to sleeping in it at night all over again. Last night I decided to try an experiment, and used some painkillers before I went to bed to see if that would help. It turned out to work quite well, actually, with me only waking up the once (as opposed to the nights before that, where I was waking up at least 3-4 times during the night), as such today I'm actually feeling rather refreshed, as opposed to the last time, where I was tired for the first few days. So progress!

All up, I'm feeling pretty optimistic about this go. Hopefully all the bugs'll have been ironed out, and I can go long-term for a while!

Sparrows

Earlier this week I read a post of tumblr talking about how birds have become a common symbol of fragility and vulnerability in a few places (and how this apparently has spread to the rest of society), and it got me to thinking. While I'm not sure I really believe in totem animals, or spirit animals, sparrows definitely call to me, and the more I watched sparrows, the more I researched their behaviors and symbology, the more they called to me.

But symbols of fragility? Of vulnerability? Sure, sparrows are small and cute, and I don't deny that that's what attracted me to them in the first place, but having been an avid sparrow watcher for the last while, the last thing I think of when it comes to sparrows is vulnerability. The associations they have in my mind are very, very different.

First and foremost in my mind, sparrows survive. Wherever sparrows have been introduced, they have not only survived, but thrived. They're not picky about what they eat, they'll eat seeds and fruit, or they'll stalk your local mcdonalds, waiting for you to leave your scraps (or in one case, wait until your attention is elsewhere, and steal a French fry). On the Australian east coast, they are a pest, a pest so pervasive and so skilled as surviving in our conditions that we've basically given up the idea of controlling them.

Sparrows are also vicious. See, while we look at sparrows and see them as these shy birds flying away at the first sign of human attention, when it comes to other birds, sparrows are incredibly aggressive. They will attack other birds and steal their nests. In their gangs, they'll flock around another intruding bird and chase them away from the human and their lunch. Sparrows will burn down your house. They are, really, the teenage gangs of the bird world.

Sparrows to me, also represent Urbanity. While they live everywhere, my strongest memories of sparrows are within the city of Melbourne, and within my own back yard. And I am definitely an Urban boy. While I can appreciate the beauty of nature, the beauty of the city speaks to my heart. My heart quickens when I see the giant cranes of the Melbourne docks lit up when I'm traveling home, or watch the flow of traffic from a highrise building, or when I travel to high lookouts, and get to see the city grid lit up at night. To me, Sparrows are part of that Urban beauty. Where humans are, you'll find sparrows in pretty quick order, they are a quintessential part of the cityscape, and the cityscape is a quintessential part of me.

Sparrows also represent family. Sparrows on their own don't often survive long. They tend to hang around in groups of 5-6, because there's always safety in numbers. 5 sparrows can see something 1 sparrow might miss. If you see one sparrow, there's likely to be another few hanging back, waiting until it's safe to come down. Sparrows always remind me that, no matter how hard I try, I will never achieve as much on my own as I will with people around me, supporting me to be my best.

And, most of all, they represent freedom. You have to work pretty hard to trap a sparrow, they're skittish and small, and are quick to fly at the first sign of danger. We have often projected this onto birds, but the ability to fly away, to wherever you want? It's a glorious gift, one that I envy, at times. These days, of course, I spend a lot less time trying to run away from my life, but old feelings sometimes die hard.

But don't call a sparrow vulnerable - they can bloody well take care of themselves!

Chastity - Hazardous to My Health

So last weekend, I found the device getting more and more uncomfortable, so I asked Daddy if I could take it off for a night, just to let my body reset itself. After a comedy of errors trying to get the device off (it took getting pliers to get the thing off), we discovered the reason why it was starting to get uncomfortable.

On the underside of my penis, where I can't casually inspect it when the device is on, part of it had clearly been rubbing a lot, and so there was a large sore. Which was probably why I had been finding it hard to find a comfy position!

So, it's been off since the weekend while my poor penis recovers it's skin. Fortunately, it seems to be healing quite well. I'm still not quite sure what exactly cause the skin break - The surface of the Birdcage is quite smooth, so there's nothing pricking me or anything like that.

Our next plan of attack is to make sure that we use lube when I'm getting into the device, to see if that helps. We'll have to see, because I'm not a fan of the idea of one-week-on, one-week-off with the device, not least because I'm fairly certain constant sores is a bad idea...