Freedom is an illusion

“Freedom is the choice of which master to serve” – @askmefast19

The above quote is from my pinned tweet on Twitter.  It is a paraphrase from a realisation that came to me during a moment of meditation when I was 19.

“Freedom is an illusion, freedom is the choice to which master you submit.”

Since my mind opened to this, I see it evident everywhere, in every social construct; religion, politics and all the way through to BDSM.

There is nothing of our existance that exists in such isolation that nothing else matters. Even if we shunned everything and lived alone on a deserted island, there would be certain basic rules which we would have no choice but to follow in order to live. We would need to drink, eat and respect the forces of nature.

I saw a comic strip many years ago along the lines of:

“What uniform is that you are wearing?”
“Oh this, I have just joined the army of nonconformists.”

Here is another popular anexdote:

“You’re so luck you’re the boss, you don’t have to report to anyone!”
“Well true, I don’t have one boss, I have many. Every client is my boss.”

I mention these to illustrate that no matter what our station in life or individual circumstances, there are always a set of rules that govern us. At this point you may think of exceptions that might spring to mind, circumstances where choice is impossible or non-existant. These might range from what choice does a newborn baby have, a drug addict homeless on the streets, slavery or anyone phycally or mentally imprissioned.

There are no simple answers for those in these forms of existence. For the vast majority of us ,we always have a choice. The options that we have to choose from may feel impossible, they may be exeptionally limited or even perhaps all severly dire, there is still choice.

For me, when I realised that I can choose and that I have choosen, it gave me a sense of liberty, it empowered me.

When I started learning and exploring the area of BSDM and in particular the Domme/sub dynamic, I found that the submitting to and controlling of another person fell completely within my definition of freedom.

The sub has an intrinsic need to submit, to choose to give control and enter a state of mindful obedience. For the sub the choice to submit is the epitome of freedom. From the inherent irony in this, it is easy to see the title of this post “Freedom is an illusion”.

But what about the Domme, what illusion is there to the control that they have and the power they can exert? Surely this is quite explicit. In a healthy and concenting Domme/sub relationship there are rules, rules that both submit themselves to.

Freedom is glibly understood by many to mean “able to choose whatever you want to do, with no limits” and there are serveral lenses through which people see this freedom. Some of these are accountability, choice, resource and power.

For me regardless how much resource and power someone might have, they will at some point always be accountable. I say to you that even these people don’t exist in a vaccum without rules.

Comparing yourself to those that appear to have unlimted freedom, I say don’t. Embrace the choice you do have and claim the liberty within yourself. Freedom may be an illusion but you are real, you can choose.


A tribute to you

A tribute to you

My mind has been crazy of late, so many real life things going on. Such little time to decompress, not much opportunity to put life on pause.

This morning under the frosty morning sky, I’m presented with a moment to be. A moment to focus on you,  letting me cut through this fog that clutters my mind.

Your image and your words, they fill my senses, your voice reverberating throughout my being. An inferno of carnal thoughts now free to pay this tribute to you.


Masturbation Monday


Charged by the need in your eyes

Charged by the need in your eyes

My mind is consumed by desire

All restraint is lost, yearning to be fully unleashed

To taking you completely as mine fulfilling your purpose

An offering to be beast as the vessel for my release


Sinful Sunday


Scarred for life

Scarred for life

I carry a host of scars across my body, most of them represent some experience that enriched my life, except one, the one that saved my life.

I have enjoyed reading the body positive posts from many people from the blogging and twitter communities and until now, never thought that I had much to contribute myself. I have posted various erotic / revealing pictures related to memes such as #SinfulSunday, these pictures have conveniently hidden or obfuscated then parts of my body which I am less confident with.

I can thank my ancestors in giving me relatively good genes. For most of my life, my body was never something that I dwelled on, something that held be back physically or emotionally.  I remember words I said to my dad over 30 years ago, like bells ringing in my ears, “I will never let myself get out of shape, I will never let myself let go”. Recently, these words had come to haunt me.

I carry my many scares like badges of honour, until one day after I waking up from anesthetic and covered in tubes unable to move. When I fully came round, I discovered that I would have a scare across my stomache. A result of a routine appendix procedure which excallated very suddenly to a life saving cut for a burst appendix opperation. End to end the cut was about 30cm, and for the first time in my life I had something about my body that really bothered me.


In my previous post a shadow of me, I referred to a low period in my life. During much of this period, my level of exercise was very low and I developed a snacking habbit that gradually got worse. The result was that by the end of 2018, I had not only picked up a lot of weight but I also acquired that belly I had vowed to my dad I never would. Not only did I break that vow to myself, I was ashamed of my appearance and to make matters worse, the scare across my stomach had stretched.

For the first time in my experience, I did things to directly to cover up and avoid anything where my stomach would be exposed. With hind sight, this is also the first time I could properly related to people who for any reason, have a real problem with their bodies. For several months this was my struggle and the more I struggled with these feelings, the worse my situation became.

Now nearly at the end of 2019 and after running almost 500km, above is the picture now. I still have some way to go and I am still self concious about what you see, I will probably always be. But like many of my blog posts, I find a release leaving the burden of my worries and thoughts out here in the open.

Decorrated by the experiences of life, perhaps my tummy might make more of an appearance in the future.






a shadow of me

a shadow of me


a shadow of (oneself)

Someone or something that has changed dramatically to become decreased in vivacity in some way, often following negative circumstances or some traumatic event.

There are times when the positives in your life are shaded by seasons of change, times of barrenness and stagnation. Although I have the capacity to rationalise these times in my life, it remains a tough and a draining path to walk.

I am facing a big change in my life that which has nurmerous positive outcomes and filled with opportunity. Like Lot’s wife though, I am compelled to turn back and gaze on what I am leaving behind.

The past 10 years have been a time of wondering in the wilderness, with mirages of disappointments, but also with a multitude of lessions learned. I do believe that I will not be at this juncture had I not endured this experience.

So here I am reflecting, on the path forward and the shadow its casts over my past. I live a multidimentional life; I’m a father with the joys, duty and responsibilities that go with that. I have often thought that I am not a good father because I don’t identify as being a father. It is by far the largest factor that defines my life and decisions, but in terms of self identity, it has never been something I’ve associated with.

There is the inner me, the one who has accompanied me throughout my life who is a slightly introverted people pleaser, a helper, a problem solver. After I have exhausted my energies, I withdraw into myself, dial back the demand and recharge. This side of me excelles in my professional life. As does another side of me that seeks out risk, adventure and adrenaline.

A side that has been very much hidden is my kinky side, it has been lurking in the shadows thoughout my life. It comes out occationally to breath, slowly growing in strength and demanding more and more of me. This side you have seen revealed on my blog and my twitter account.

These parts of me have all been mutually exclusive, attempts merge any combination of these has mostly lead to disaster. Hence the introduction to this post and a question I ponder; have I become less due to these struggles within?

Although an introverted person, I feed on the validation of others. I come out of my shell to help and then withdraw. During this past period of wondering, I have been starved in many ways and its in this context I that I feel a lesser person, starved from the validation I need, that which I crave.

While writing this post I wonder if these three facets of myself I describe, are not so much in conflict but more that they out of balance?

With this opportunity ahead, I am hoping that the inner me can get a recharge and power the core system that both the parent and the kinkster relies on. A reboot.