The real-life tales of a self-confessed kink addict

I can see now how I've allowed fear to drive me, chasing me through every area of life. Fear is a subtle bastard, dark twin to desire, shadowing all the good. For there is nothing that fear will not pervert if it is allowed to, and nothing that it can't infect. The thing to remember is that fear orginates from within ourselves, and we take it with us. How else could each person carry their own private fears? It is a garment tailored for us, by us.

In my dream, I was at the house of an old teacher of mine. She looked different but I knew it was her. We were just sort of chatting and then I knew I had to go home (in the dream I lived next door). I went home but the house had gone and in it's place was a large tent type thing but open on the sides.

There were hundreds of people, all Maori, gathered around the tent, and when I got into the tent I saw my aunties. Except they were different, they had the same features mostly but were really tall (7-8ft). They did recognise me but I'm not sure if they actually were my aunties. Right in the middle of the tent was a bench seat that three people were sitting on. A man, huge, held my hand and gestured for me to sit beside him on the bench. Some part of me recognised that this was an honour. But I was kind of like a child in my dream, I wanted my father and I knew he was arranging something in the crowd. I walked to him ( I could see the tent about 100m away) and he smiled at me. Then i heard a huge voice cry out "Hehika" and my father said to me "They're calling you". As the voice called my name (Hehika was my name in the dream) about twelve people in the crowd stood up and waved taiaha ( I can still see the feathers around the taiaha) and called out and cheered. I knew they were Ngati Kahu (my tribe). I also knew that the reason why only twelve stood was not because my tribe is small, but because there were so many different delegations there and each had only sent that number.

I looked and dad and said "ka haere au ki a koe tera" which means, I will go with you over there (the tent) and he smiled and took my hand. And then I woke up.

I have NEVER had a dream in which i've spoken Maori or any language but English... a strange dream but I awoke feeling good...

You know you've had a good night when you get home wearing someone else's underwear and you didn't even do it intentionally. I felt the frisson of delicious naughtiness as I strode into the hotel lobby, my casual outer clothing masking the boned ebony corset and tiny g-string I was wearing underneath. Room 815, not the usual room, but I found it easily enough. I did not even have time to knock before the door opened before me and I stepped inside...

M awaited me there, with K in the bedroom. They had already disrobed and I quickly followed suit... K and I knelt on the bed, stroking, caressing, while M kissed us alternately, touching me, then K then himself until we could bear it no longer... Stripping off and lying in a smooth heap on the bed, fingers and mouths and toys and touching and... I stroked her while he fucked her from behind and she used the toys on me... Her licking me while he fucked me from below... I fucking him while she works his ass with the vibrator... Soft kisses and hard fucking...

It was just what I needed, I think, that total sensory involvement which, if only for a time, excludes all else. I fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow and awoke to the sound of a new day...

Sometimes you have to lose everything before you can appreciate anything. Sometimes appreciation only makes the loss worse....

I have been considering self worth of late... it goes so much deeper than self esteem. I have been asking myself why anyone would want to engage in the kind of behaviour that if not actively damaging, is at the least negligent.The only conclusion I can draw is that, at some point, either suddenly in a single instant, or gradually over years, we come to have an idea of our value, and base our calculations accordingly.

But when the base equation is flawed, miscalculations occur...

I think a want is just a need you can't justify... how else could desire prick at the senses so? Doesn't everything serve a purpose? Should it?

I dreamt I was a black man. Even in my dreaming I knew who I was on the inside, but when I examined my reflection in the dusty window of the back shed I gazed in wonder at the flat black impassiveness that stared back. I fingered taut threads of muscle on my chest and shoulders and marvelled at my appearance.

I dreamt of an undeveloped section in the heart of the city. I frustrated at the under-utilisation of it, but a capricious part of me revelled at the vibrancy of that section, resisting the encroaching urban sprawl while being at it's core...

It sometimes seems as if I could do anything, if I could only decipher what it is I want...

S and I have been spending quite a lot of time together of late- I suppose I have spent three or four nights with her recently. Such smooth skin, gentle kisses and a softly vicious touch... Her hand closing around my throat... Pulling my hair... She has a dark and devious side, that one. Sometimes being with her feels like being sucked under, or along, and you don't resist even though part of you wants to because you know that were you to try, you'd be swept along all the same...

Our saving grace is the spiritual bond we have, I think. That seems to ensure that regardless of the nature of our relationship, we can rest secure in our love for each other and find joy in each others' happiness. Her man arrives in a couple of weeks, I imagine that will put the sexual side to our relationship to rest. I wish her all the best with him. And I consider us both fortunate to share such a unique relationship...

Mainstream advertising makes me feel alienated. I watched television last night, not something I do toooo often... and none of the products or services related to me at all. I have no interest in chicken nuggets or pine scented bleach or three different sizes of plastic wrap... Even the products that I would use or do need (we do all need to eat and clean  etc after all) don't require repeated messages to induce me to buy.  And it got me thinking... Commercialism is actually founded on unhappiness and discontent... Advertising tries to make you feel inadequate somehow, so you buy a product to feel "happy" or worthy because you are bombarded with images of "success" and the implication is that without that product you are lacking... It's insidious. Happiness is the enemy of greed because if you are content and fulfilled you understand there is nothing that a material object can offer that will actually make you any happier. So commercialism nourishes unhappiness as governments nourish fear....

Why all the negative energy? No wonder the world is a shithole- we're consistently being convinced of it. Instead of creating our own realities, we accept the reality with which we are presented by those with vested interests in keeping us as we are...

It's enough to make you want to go bush. And not Bush, that sycophantic, nepotistic corporate whore. But bush like a bach by the beach or mountains...

During the weekend I attended the Fetish Ball with friends... I indulged my quasi-fascist military fantasy and dressed to kill. It was an interesting evening,  S and I with M and L. We looked and felt fantastic, no doubt the ecstasy helped. Lol. It felt almost like getting back into harness, S and I, a team. We had each others' backs the entire evening, and the confidence that one has in knowing that no matter where you are, or what state you're in, someone is looking out for you is good for the soul.

There was the usual motley assortment of hard-core fetishists, the curious, the regulars, goths, cops, nurses, doctors... Scenes were played at various locations around the venue, each attracting on-lookers and more serious voyeurs. I must admit to feeling a certain... frustration... that the majority of those involved in the BDSM scenes were fat, old, and ugly. It lent a sordidness to the proceedings, mostly because I had the feeling that they would tolerate anything merely in order to get laid.... An avaricious gleam lit the eye of many and the sweaty, graspingness of the unfortunate only further enhanced my surety in my superiority.

He was wearing a latex corset, suspenders, and a heavy leather collar. He begged me to spank him... I made him kiss my riding crop and bend over for me before, lightly at first, then with increasing intensity I spanked his bare ass, the thwack of leather utterly distinguishable against the background noise...

All in all a fantastic night...

Sometimes it seems that the more options you have, the harder it is to make a decision, as if each different opportunity presents you with it's own whole set of consequences and repercussions to be considered. I would hesitate to describe myself as paralysed by indecision, but I am not able to behave in my usual decisive fashion for some reason. I wonder why?

Choices and consequences. It's a shame that some choices preclude certain outcomes... and that sometimes once a decision is made there is no reconsidering it. I guess that explains my hesitancy, I feel the weight of my choices and the permanence of any decision that is made. It is time to bite a few bullets, I think...

You have to be pretty fucking hungry to want to eat an airplane meal and my condition prevented me from even considering it. Having not slept for the previous 48 hours I was absolutely exhausted but I couldn't shut my mind off. My body slept but my thoughts kept flicking over the events of the previous day or two...

I arrived at the city apartment the evening before. M and L were at a wine bar. I declined to join them and instead met for the first time a woman with whom I had conversed for months. We took a trip out west, visiting a friend of hers who is a dealer. He refused to accept our money and put up what must have been a good couple of points for us. The bowl of the pipe was as big as my FIST. After we left the house we returned to the city and met M and L at a sex club. The four of us entered, after having all cellphones secured at the entrance by the bouncer...

It was dark inside, and smaller than I had anticipated. A large cage swung in the corner of the bar and various implements such as floggers and cuffs adorned the many low couches and stools. There were private rooms, and less private rooms... I met a woman, older, sophisticated, who owns some kind of horse training farm and used to ride competitively. She was slim and blonde and smaller even than I...

I'm heading back up there in a couple of weeks...

What ARE the rules regarding fucking your friends ex-fucks? It's never really been an issue in the past, but it could be now... I was naughty on Saturday and went home with a man that my flatmate fucked once or twice... and I haven't told her. Or anyone. I kinda like having a dirty little secret... And I want to fuck him again...  I think he will be a good candidate for the role of male fuck buddy, and this is something I will discuss with him next week.

I've had an offer from M to accompany him and L to Auckland on Friday to scope out a sex club with a view to incorporating ideas for our potential business venture. I think I'll go, I haven't been all year. And I could use a blowout...

Our souls are compasses which point the way home, back to the collective soul and the nothingness that is. To the soul, time loops and whorls in an endless dream of galaxies unfurling and collapsing back into themselves, leaving harmonics, ghost notes of themselves echoing through the void. Paradox, I have decided, is the true nature of the universe. The mind requires absolutes  yet exists in a purely subjective reality. How to make sense of something that defies the senses?

These were my thoughts as I lay in bed on Sunday afternoon, blunting my mind as I came down. The night before had been a whirl of dancefloors, alleyways and plenty to keep us going. My thoughts were vultures, wheeling and circling over the carcass of my drug use. Slowly, but perceptibly, the world resumed it's usual familiar shape but the residue of my thoughts remained...

We fucked last night for the first time in what feels like a long time, although in actual fact is less than a week... I traced the shape of her breasts and neck and face as she slid her hand down and began to touch herself... I slipped two fingers just inside her as we kissed and I felt her wetness as my mouth moved down her body... She fisted me slowly, deeply, and afterwards I grinned to think that such a thing could exist and that I might be part of it...

After she left for work this morning I could not get back to sleep. I had a joint and lay there reminiscing of last night until I just had to touch myself...

And tonight we have a Halloween party and play dress ups and get drunk and talk shit and get high... Wonderful. At times I feel my fortune is such that I can barely contain it...

I am learning things I could not have conceived of, even had I known the outcomes of my decisions before they were made... It is a strange sensation, but I rest easy in the knowledge that my good intentions protect me and that my trust in myself will be rewarded. I think there is a little robot, or angel, or demon, or even god that resides inside each of one of us and knows... the true meaning we attach to our actions. I don't believe that any of us ever behaves in a truly unconscious fashion, motivations percolate to at least the subconscious before the waking mind quashes them...

I think I've been dreaming the future, for at least a week now- vaguely industrialised complexes and communal meeting areas, mundane tasks and hard edges, functionality. It makes the day-to-day reality seem the mirage, as if the by-product of some future me, dreaming back through time. These ideas amuse me, but I do not discount them entirely, because imagination is the bridge between the potential and the actual. For if one cannot even envision a future, how can one create it?

We fucked like we might never fuck again, which I suppose could be the case. A sense of urgency permeated the sex although the pace was unhurried... He slid his hand down the length of my body in the lamplight and the wistful glint in his eyes reminded me of a million previous near-misses and that one time... He stroked my cheek, twined his fingers through my hair and held me like a fragile, precious thing, as if I were blown glass and might chip or shatter at a glance. A heat suffused me as he spread my legs with a hand and slipped himself inside me, a slow rhythmic forcefulness like an ocean, or some dark tide, carrying me away...

He left the next day... I don't know when I will see him again. But that's ok, a bond such as ours, like an elastic taffy, will stretch all the way across the world without breaking. It may never resume it's original shape, but it will endure...

It was a night of much discussion and plans within plans for a future, subtle undercurrents and the ever-decreasing bourbon logic resulting in the planting of a seed, then the leaving of it for germination.... I sometimes feel as though the only things stopping me are my misguided senses of loyalty and honour. I could have been a trophy wife, a corporate chattel or a gold-digging bitch. I could have wielded my power in a far less responsible manner. Hah. Even I recognise the futility of that game...

Having made good ground of late, I am eager to consolidate the growth. I have come to a realisation, not in a blinding flash on some road to Damascus, but in a slow powerful riptide drifting me inevitably towards comprehension- happiness is not an emotion, it is a state of being.

Why the FUCK should you need to dump someone twice?! Men are idiots. Idiots who obviously hear only what they want, no matter what is actually being said... I was called by the man repeatedly over the weekend, apparently the message didn't get through and he wants to know when he can see me again. So tonight I will bluntly, maybe even crudely, and certainly not delicately, inform him of the situation. Pity he has ruined his chances at friendship with this display of egotism and willful ignorance. Fool! And I will not make the same mistake again (and again) of fucking him. Obviously this confuses him... It is the only possible explanation I can think of. But how much responsibility should one take for another? Why must, and in fact, how CAN one assume more responsibility in a mutual situation? How tiresome...

A sense of ennui grips me, or possibly hubris, or possibly both. Pride and listlessness are qualities I possess in spades, apparently. I'm adjusting a lot more easily than I thought I would, a testament to my self-absorption I suppose...  I'm more worried about her than I am about me, mostly because I know I'll be ok. I'm always ok. Having developed an extensive support network is one of the things that has kept me sane over the years. I guess this is where fluidity also comes into it's own, the ability to balance on strange surfaces and let things wash over you, to be swept along in the currents for a while without losing your sense of direction...

A busy weekend with much distraction, perfect. B is in town for a week, and newly single. Hmmmmm...