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 … Self-Pleasuring Update

Posted by VERITAS
Jacked …, no, make that “self-pleasured” — and a fantastic jack … self-pleasuring it was! — to some of the usual and some atypical (for me) fantasies; that is, to a Bitch Dom hybrid — the hybrid aspect being a RLW (Real Live Woman), a certain K, whose lithe, fit body I find quite attractive (I happen to find various aspects of her personality quite attractive as well), the hybrid possessed of full, firm, lactating breasts which provided me with an ample quantity of mother’s milk even as I fucked her, bringing her to the heights of orgasmic ecstasy as well as myself — a, yes, reciprocal giving and partaking of erotic pleasure, decidedly different from the usual one-way (with the Bitch Dom toying with me, bringing me to orgasm while remaining, all along, in Ice Bitch mode) Bitch Dom fantasy.

Hamster Spank Toddler-Hood

Posted by VERITAS
Jacking Update:
Jacked to the usual fantasies with the not uncommon ending twist of me disengaging from my sub behavior and the Bitch Dom from her dom behavior to enjoy, in the final blissful moments leading to climax then through the climax itself, a sub-free, dom-free, perfect equality of power and union.

… And jacked, as well, in the earlier stages of the jack, to a heretofore, to the best of my memory, unimagined link in the chain erotic-pleasure-suffused humiliations my imagination has the Bitch Dom put me through, enhancing the exquisite degradation of these humiliations to an unprecedented degree: the new link being an image of the Bitch Dom, having placed me on — ordered me onto — a treadmill so that I’m on the treadmill on all fours, then, with the tap of a button, starting the treadmill moving so that I have to “run” on all fours to stay in one position so as not to fall off the treadmill, and, as I do so, the Bitch Dom spanking me and spanking me, and, as she does so, laughing with the most pleasurable of sadistic ecstasy at the look of utter humiliation and bewilderment on my face as all this is happening; at the humiliation of the overall sight of this new link that she has contrived (that my imagination has imagined her contriving), and at the notion that she was able to contrive it and then, with my doing her bidding, to carry it through.

The jacking completed, the fantasy over, I now contemplate the possible connections between this new link in my Bitch Dom fantasy chain to my childhood environment during my toddler-hood — an environment in which, based on the sexual abuse I do remembered my father subjecting me to starting from only a year or two after this crawling, toddling phase of my life, I imagine I was experiencing my father’s sexual abuse at this earlier (crawling, toddling) phase as well, and an environment in which I was experiencing, also, my mother’s blindness, however willful it may to some degree have been, to what my father was doing to me.  An environment in which my mother may well have sometimes spanked me, and my father may have done so as well, and in which the reason for my mother’s spanking me may sometimes have been my having acted out the sexual abuse I was experiencing from my father by masturbating.  An environment in which I may have truly been on a treadmill — a continuous cycle — of sexual stimulation and humiliation by my father as he abused me followed by my acting out behavior followed by my mother’s punishment for acting out the abuse, and/or in which my mother, in her however willful blindness, may sometimes have responded with laughter, in an attempt to leaven my and her own mood, in response to the look of bewilderment and humiliation she could see on my face, which look may have often been triggered by any one or more of many mundane failures toddlers experience in their daily lives — failures in their abilities to do what they want to do, move as they would like to move, etc. — but which look, expression may have been enhanced manifold in its intensity by the far more profound feelings of bewilderment and humiliation, connected to my father’s sexual abuse, which such mundane triggers may have activated, thereby making it seem, to my toddler’s mind, although through subconscious mental processes, as though my mother were making light of the bewilderment and humiliation I was experiencing during my father’s abuse.

From such a childhood environment — of sexual abuse by my father together with my mother’s blind neglect and/or discounting of feelings of bewilderment and humiliation I experienced during the abuse and when they would be triggered afterward — from such a childhood seedbed, I sense, the Bitch Dom was born, by degrees, in my adolescent and adult imagination.

These, at least, are my speculations, which I feel have a good chance of being accurate to some significant degree.


Posted by VERITAS
Seeking release, engaged in a nice, quick shower jack which did the trick, the jack fantasy starting, as it often does, with nipple fondle by the Bitch Dom, then progressing quickly to jacking — by me in front of the Bitch Dom, as a token of my subservience to her — followed by fucking, this jack accompanied by the added motifs of the BD having had her pubic hair shaved to a heart shape so that as I entered her she said, “Boku no kokoro no ichiban oku no tokoro made kite kudasai.” (“Come to the deepest place of my heart.”), and of the BD losing it — her typical Ice Bitch cool, that is — and reaching orgasm with me, calling my name as she did so.

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 … ?