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 …

“The Road Within”


Posted by VERITAS
Very much enjoyed watching and highly recommend “The Road Within” – excellent story, great acting.

Characters in whose extreme forms of behavior – and related thinking / mental processes – one can see tendencies to which anyone can be prone.  I definitely could for myself anyway.

“Undergrounds” Resonance:
This is very much a movie about self-acceptance, especially acceptance of those aspects of oneself about which one has felt the most ashamed, embarrassed, discomfited, etc., which certainly the case with a substantial amount of the material originating from my “undergrounds” …
As the saying goes, acceptance of where one is in the present provides the only solid basis for change … to the extent that change is possible … and to the extent that change isn’t possible self-acceptance is useful as well.

Inner Police State

Posted by VERITAS
Dream Frag:
Of some sort of policeman in some sort of patrol car around which are standing a group of children and adults; the policeman suddenly accelerating from a parked position and, by so doing, running over, or otherwise striking, and killing or nearly killing two of the children, one of whom may be around five and the other one younger … yes, nearly killing, not actually killing, but the children are run straight over, made so flimsy, wavering like paper-thin cut-outs or ghosts.

– All the people standing around the car, the kids included, are different aspects of my authentic self or my identity states at various times in my life.
– The policeman in the patrol car is the part of my identity state that attempts to impose authority on the other parts for whatever purposes doing so may seemingly suit, such as conforming to others’ expectations so as not to incur their displeasure.
– This authoritarian part of my identity state brutalized as least two aspects of my identity states during my childhood.

Hamster Spank 5

Posted by VERITAS
… Hamsters actually enjoy exercising on exercise wheels … provided they aren’t forced to do so …
… but it is as though my imagination’s auto-pilot forces my consciousness onto the treadmill, metaphorically, nearly every time I masturbate to a Bitch Dom fantasy, though often with the ameliorating climax of imagining the Bitch Dom’s Ice Bitch persona melting so that she as well, not just me, experiences passion approaching and reaching climax …

… Ultimately, for me, sexual interaction is all about freedom to choose …
… Yes, in the fantasy I choose my own enslavement, to the Bitch Dom (my Bitch Dom, product of my imagination … my imagination the ultimate Dom) … but my choice is always accompanied by feelings of anguish and distress, telling me that my choice is being made under duress – the duress of my actions being controlled by my attraction to the BD … which I suspect arises out of the conditions of extreme duress of my father’s sexual abuse …

… Ultimately, for me, it’s a all about freedom …

Fear of the Future

Posted by VERITAS
What to do?!  What to do?!
What can I do?
Do I face little or no more than a future of jacking and poverty?
Or, rather, a constant, grinding worry about whether or not I’ll continue to possess the ability to meet my basic material needs, my most minimal desires for sustenance, and not end up on the street?
With this grinding worry to be alleviated only by the occasional jack with its brief, climactic frisson of release, escape to momentary brain-chemical utopia?
But wait? Doesn’t this sort of hellish existence resemble, in some sense, my circumstances as a child during the period of my father’s sexual abuse when I was nine?
With the grinding worry — terror even — that I experienced during the actual abuse, and the worry and other misery that I experienced in my everyday life between each abuse episode (though not directly, consciously about the abuse as I suppressed all memory of the abuse itself when it wasn’t actually happening) alleviated only, or principally, by the orgasms my father’s abuse (before, that is, my penis became all raw and swollen and sore from the excessive attention it received from my father’s hands and mouth) would bring me to — so fleetingly! — when my brain would seize this transitory release to imagine myself floating through deepest space, so far away from my father and the abuse’s hell.
Will jacking provide little more than some transitory escape from whatever hellishness I might experience in my future?  Or will, positively viewed as legitimate self-pleasuring, and self-liberation help provide a path to greater healing, including in the area of material sustenance … ?