Jacking Update

Posted by VERITAS
Woke from sleep with a code red urge to jack; no worries as I keep the calendula oil close at hand and proceeded to jack forthwith to the usual fantasies – the Bitch Dom easily seducing me with her perfect body, perfect allure; the Bitch Dom applying the calendula to my nipples, breasts, cock in copious dollops; the Bitch Dom licking, stroking my nipples, cock to max-hardness; the Bitch Dom, in a state of lactation, breast-feeding me until my thirst for her milk is completely satisfied … and with, as has been happening more frequently lately, the Ice-Bitch-Melts variant of the Bitch Dom herself losing control as we fuck, the two of us coming together …

The resonance, as usual, with what I strongly suspect may have been the situation from my earliest infancy, into and through my toddler-hood: my father sexually abusing me in the various ways I remember him doing from the earliest remembered incident when I was three or four; my mother beautiful, attractive to me, but unaware her husband, my father, was abusing me, or, at least, suppressing her awareness, minimizing it to something close to zero; my mother, according to one of her letters from about ten or fifteen years ago, having breast-fed me for only two weeks and then stopping because she didn’t have enough milk (which I suspect was due to her having, a la mode for the 1950s, fed me on a strict time schedule, which according to Internet research, as such strict scheduling contravenes natural cycles of milk production and consumption between mother and child, can easily render a mother’s milk supplies inadequate); my experience with, perception of my mother having, on some levels, been sexualized – more than an infant, toddler’s experience of their mother would normally be – by my father’s sexual abuse; and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah …

And the usual questions:
– Do the Bitch Dom fantasies, in some way, form some sort of protective barrier, or, at least, moderating buffer, between my present consciousness and any suppressed or compartmentalized (or however you want to term it) memories that may be lurking in my subconscious of the complete hell of what the actual situation must have been like if my above-noted suspicions regarding my infant- and toddler-hood home environment – with respect to the effect of my father’s sexual abuse, my mother’s inability to respond effectively to such abuse, etc. – are correct?
– Can these fantasies as well as my indulging them (to the extent that I intentionally indulge them – so strong is their allure, when jacking, that I often feel little or no control over having them) and my otherwise focusing on them in these postings and otherwise in my thoughts help provide a path in my life to greater freedom, or do these fantasies simply help to keep me stuck with baggage it might be better, in one sense or another, to let go of?
– And so on …

Jacking Update: Sublimation

Posted by VERITAS
First night back in Japan and jacked to a variety pack assortment of the usual fantasies — the Bitch Dom (my Bitch Dom) as, per the usual, a young woman of exceeding beauty and seductiveness, fondling my nipples through my shirt as we stand in the night air outside the door of her condominium, my nipples growing so very, very hard; slipping her hands under my shirt for more nipple stroking, my nipples growing even harder and she’s in some so so very cut-off jeans (or short shorts — the fantasy nictitating, flipping back and forth) that expose the lower halves (or thirds anyway) of her globular buttocks as she does this and “Do you want to be my slave,” she says so softly, cooing-ly, and “Yes I want to be your slave, I immediately reply, and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah and then we’re in her place and she’s jacking me with the aid of the calendula oil which provides a Pavlovian kick — the smell of it — to the turn on, and then she straddles me on the simple, armless chair she’s instructed me to sit in in her living room; straddles me and takes me in and then she’s breastfeeding me and as I write this I’m feeling again, as always, how these fantasies are so so very mommy- (with the breastfeeding and more) and daddy-powered (with the nipple fondling and more) from my infant- and toddler-hood — some sort of an echoing but preferable alternative to the full reality of how things actually were — actually were, what with, in actuality, my having been a completely helpless infant, toddler, completely unable to choose or escape my circumstances (instead of, in the fantasy, an adult who, in a way an infant, toddler never could, allows myself, chooses to be Bitch Domned, BD-enslaved); with my father having fondled my nipples, as a part of his sexual abuse, instead of the so so very beautiful (as I’m certain my mother was to me when I was an infant, toddler) Bitch Dom doing this; with my mother having been blind to my father’s abuse (having, perhaps, as the expression goes, turned a blind eye to it) and, therefore, to its connection to whatever outward signs of its negative effects I was manifesting, instead of, as in the fantasy, being completely in control of everything that’s being done to me sexually, being the person — via the guise of, behind the veil of, or, at least, feeding into the persona of, the Bitch Dom — who does it, administers it — all the sexual stuff — herself and with my father nowhere to be seen … and so forth and so on, my point being that these Bitch Dom fantasies are, I suspect, an alternative to, sublimation of the actual, hellishly wretched reality of my circumstances as an infant, toddler in respect of whatever sexual abuse my father was inflicting upon me at the time — far, far, in various respects, preferable to, more palatable than that actual reality — a reality involving an utterly helpless child (myself), an abusive father, and a mother blind to the abuse.

Jacking Update

Posted by VERITAS
Solid jack during late morning shower with full-bodied hard-on and smooth, steadily quickening strokes, courtesy of calendula oil lubrication, to vibrant orgasm and ample (by my standards anyway) emission of sperm.

This jack segueing off intermittent incipient hard-ons throughout the morning at thoughts of a woman I feel decidedly attracted to — especially when stimulated by at least what I perceive to be the interest in me I hear in her voice when she speaks to me; a certain charge, electricity in her touch (or am I only fooling myself as to the degree of her interest, or whether it exists at all).

Now feeling relaxed — not frazzled — post cum; all in all what I would assess to be a well-grounded, wholly pleasurable, life(-style)-enhancing jack.

Jacking Update

Posted by VERITAS

Jacked to the usual Bitch Dom fantasies (with the not unusual, at least lately, ending variation) … of jacking off in front of her while saying, “I’m your slave!” over and over … of showing up at her doorstep, being let in by auto-lock, waiting naked (I never imagine taking my clothes off — they’re just off, like a jump cut in a movie) on all fours at the front of her entrance hallway for her to come and get me … of her coming, almost naked, clad only black silk underwear or leather cum high heels, to get me … of me kissing her feet … of her placing the smooth silver chain around my neck and leading me down the hallway … of her applying the calendula oil to my nipples … of her fondling my nipples, getting me hard, helping me to jack …

Ending variation: … the DSM (domination/sado-masochism) part falls away and I’m just fucking her, usually from behind (though vaginally, not anally) … I come inside her …

Interpretation of the DSM Part:

As I’ve said before, I think it all goes back to the conditions that prevailed in my family of origin when I was an infant and toddler — with my father, I’m guessing, even then sexually abusing me; sexually stimulating me in various ways; with me being in utter thrall to my mother — naturally, as she was my mother; with me finding her so utterly beautiful, being a slave to her beauty in a sense; but with my mother being oblivious to my father’s abuse, not protecting me from it, and, I suspect, reacting negatively to whatever acting out behavior I was exhibiting – for example, spanking me, perhaps, if she saw me repeatedly masturbating … and so the Bitch Dom is, as I see her, sort of an amalgam of my mother and father, but with an added intentionality of wanting to see me suffer; wanting to make me feel sexually powerless and manipulated, humiliated, and so forth and so on — this intentionality my mind added completely on its own, I believe, for I don’t believe that either my mother or my father were being intentionally sadistic, etc.  (Yes, I believe my father was that much in denial of what he was doing to me when he sexually abused me.)

And why would my mind add this component of intentionality?  Because, I think, then, at least, someone possesses control over everything I was, in fact, experiencing — the mixture of erotic pleasure and humiliation; of having no control over the situation; etc. — as an infant and toddler.  The Bitch Dom provides an element of rationality and control over a situation that, in real life, felt extremely dangerous, chaotic, and out of control.