Revalation number 1

O.K., Now to give you a bit more of an insight in to the not so, "average," pieces of me.

I'm in to BDSM. (Bondage, Domination and Sado-Masochism) I'm a submissive, I serve a Master and I like playful and sensual bondage. Shock, horror. Throw up your hands in disgust and call me all the names under the sun. If you haven't immediately picked up your telephone to call for your religious leader to come around and sanitise your PC, or you have sufficiently recovered from choking on your chicken chow mein to pick up your mouse once more, then read on.

From where I stand, most modern relationships based on lust these days usually fall over flat in a few years. Pre-arranged marriages by parents are likewise abhorent. So what is wrong with a mix between the two? Forget going gooey eyed over someone across the crowded room; I don't trust it.

As an individual, alone, I can not emotionally survive. I drive myself insane. We all need love, and there are many types of love that are out there. The strongest of which, in my book, is a love which is based on respect.

I thus end up arranging my own partnerships. Luckily, there is a shortage of good submissives on the market, so within days of placing appropriately worded adverts, I am innundated with potential Masters. After writing off the adverts that show the blokes dick, and consigning the, "Kneel before me bitch!" to the electronic trash can, I am usually left with a serious group of men. Whittling down to location and primary motives, I then work out practicalities of seeing them on a regular basis, and weigh their long term goals against mine. If they match, then I meet them.

Meetings taking place in public places, we chat. I learn about them, what makes them tick, and generally weigh up the interpersonal bond. I find out what they stand for in life and why they are Masters. I state what I am looking for, and find out their oppinions on that. If things match, then a practice session is arranged.

After leaving contact details with another person, known as a "safe call," who will phone the police and hand over all details if I do not maintain contact, I visit them and spend a day or two with them, to work out their techniques and structure. Obvious mismatches are dropped, but others are kept up, until they are either all dropped, or I keep returning to one continuously.

Sounds cold hearted, doesn't it? Well, I think that no relationship will survive without serious work being done by both parties. I just start working on the relationships from the start. Face it, how else is a manic IT person supposed to meet eligible batchelors; the singles bars are out for a start!

So what DO I look for? What is this submissive malarky all about? My own personality has a number of flaws. Firstly, I have low self-esteem, meaning that if I have to do something for my own good, then I fail to do it because I don't regard myself as being worth it. Secondly, I will put other people in front of myself to my own detriment. My Master needs to be able to control these aspects. He needs to set rules for me to live by. However, it isn't as simple as that. He needs to teach me to respect Him; as if I don't respect him, then he stands as much chance of me following his orders as I would my own decisions.

To date, I have served two Masters. Both cared for me. Their rules were not destructive; but constructive; designed to enhance my life and make my progression through life more purposeful. Their orders were the wind beneath my wings. When I needed help, when I started to flounder, they were there, emotionally and physically supporting me. They spent the time to know me, to learn my life, and guide me through the rough patches. When I laughed, my joy was shared with them. When I was down, their arms were around my shoulders.

Now you try and tell me that loving men like that don't deserve respect.

So what is it to give them a bit of fun; they enjoy the control and as long as they use that control to build and not tear down, then I am more than game to explore the frutier sides of bedroom play. It is a win-win situation. I still have the right, and ability, to walk out the door if I don't like what is going on, or if I feel that what is happening is abuse rather than fun.

However, getting the search right has seen me find men who are respectful and caring. I have been given no need to want to walk away. So how come I am now serving Master number three, you ask? That will come with time, dear reader. Time. Let the story gradually unfold.

I have been honored to share my time with these men; honored to journey the country, or even enjoy a long talk and a glass of wine while sat naked in front of a roaring log fire. Me looking longingly up at him, and he looking proudly down at me. Yes, pride. A Master has every right to feel pride when a submissive follows their orders and flourishes ... just like a plant coming to a beautiful blossom after following the caring treatment of a gardeners fingertips.

Master number three; now there is the problem. That is the situation that has to be worked out. But overall, when it comes to playing the BDSM game, and having a submissive heart; I am proud to be who I am. In submission, I draw my strength and confidence. It is when the ashes are hot, that the pheonix rises anew, with a scream of power and strength that many would envy.

Being a submissive doesn't mean weak. It doesn't mean I'm a walk over. It means that I can trust my Master, and share myself openly with Him. There aren't any arguments over who's job it is to empty the rubbish or wash the dishes (mine) and no argument over who's responsibility it is to direct us through life and take the responsibility for those decisions (His). And if I am exhausted from the day, then He doesn't push me, we call out for food and I spend the evening with my head on His lap, and His fingers playing through my hair.

It is a wonderful dynamic; a blue print for a relatively argument free relationship and open communication. And if our hard work should, over time, give birth to true love, then that is the natural icing on the cake.