On Saturday March 29, 2008, over a romantic candlelit meal at Umberto's Trattoria Italia, I proposed marriage to Victoria and she accepted. We plan to be wed September of this year in the Caribbean. We hope to have the ceremony at sunset on the beach.
I realise this may seem sudden to many of my family and friends, but I am following my heart. I believe with all that I am, this is my destiny, and hers.
Thank You,
Chauncey
Sunday, 30 March 2008
Monday, 24 March 2008
Easter Monday
As everyone knows, yesterday was Easter Sunday.
Here Easter was overshadowed a bit by Victoria's 40th birthday. Unlike the celebration Michael and I began planning last year, it was a very quiet affair. I suppose I needn't tell you that no one from the network was invited. The only persons in attendance were Victoria, Fiona, my mother and father and myself.
It was a day that presented emotions as everchanging as the weather with moments of shadow as well as light. There were a few tensions between my parents and Victoria but at the end of the day things went well. I understand that this is difficult for Mother and Father. I was pleased that they came at all, even if the primary reason was to see after my well-being. I believe my parents did feel a bit reassured when they left last evening, which is good.
Before the meal Victoria gave a very candid birthday address in which She admitted freely her faults and wrongdoing. She acknowledged my parents' concern as completely reasonable given the circumstances. There were tears of remorse as well as tears brought on by remembrance of the many good times we had shared. It was spoken with the utmost sincerity from her heart.
I cannot say I have ever seen her quite this humble. She is like a new creature. Again I am struck with confusion in my heart. It is a mixture of slight shock and uncertainty.
For those that do have concern for me, you may be pleased to know that it is this confusion that keeps my forward emotions at bay. Because of the doubts I have with regard to the change of dynamic in any possible future relationship she and I might have there is trepidation with moving forward. I suppose this tempers the flood of love I feel for her. I know that I love her, but at the end of the day will I be capable of accepting a relationship that will be nothing like we have had before? More to the point, would it work? Would it last?
I realise I am getting ahead of myself. Being here does keep the issue on the front burner. I am careful not to linger at the house. For the most part I am not so inclined. I find that I still require solitude. The depression is lightened and I am kept busy with my duties once more, but being faced with the differences each and every day is a bit of an icey shower. Each evening I am in retreat just after tea and sometimes before. I will take my evening meal here in the flat during the week. This is my decision, moreover this is my choice.
Unlike before, apart from the requirements of my occupation, I am under my own authority, not hers. If there is to be a regiment I shall have to set it up myself. Whereas once I was assigned many tasks to keep me busy throughout the day and given assigned studies to turn my attentions to at night, I am now unshackled. I do only those things that meet the criteria of an HM's post during working hours. It is no longer my place to do such things as the gardening, mucking the stables, or drawing her bath.
I have the day off today. Technically I was not 'working' yesterday, but as I was in the house I could not stop myself from a bit of polish and organisation.
It has snowed overnight but as the sun is out it is melting quite quickly. By midday there may be little evidence of the evening's percipitation. I should find something to do.
Chauncey
Here Easter was overshadowed a bit by Victoria's 40th birthday. Unlike the celebration Michael and I began planning last year, it was a very quiet affair. I suppose I needn't tell you that no one from the network was invited. The only persons in attendance were Victoria, Fiona, my mother and father and myself.
It was a day that presented emotions as everchanging as the weather with moments of shadow as well as light. There were a few tensions between my parents and Victoria but at the end of the day things went well. I understand that this is difficult for Mother and Father. I was pleased that they came at all, even if the primary reason was to see after my well-being. I believe my parents did feel a bit reassured when they left last evening, which is good.
Before the meal Victoria gave a very candid birthday address in which She admitted freely her faults and wrongdoing. She acknowledged my parents' concern as completely reasonable given the circumstances. There were tears of remorse as well as tears brought on by remembrance of the many good times we had shared. It was spoken with the utmost sincerity from her heart.
I cannot say I have ever seen her quite this humble. She is like a new creature. Again I am struck with confusion in my heart. It is a mixture of slight shock and uncertainty.
For those that do have concern for me, you may be pleased to know that it is this confusion that keeps my forward emotions at bay. Because of the doubts I have with regard to the change of dynamic in any possible future relationship she and I might have there is trepidation with moving forward. I suppose this tempers the flood of love I feel for her. I know that I love her, but at the end of the day will I be capable of accepting a relationship that will be nothing like we have had before? More to the point, would it work? Would it last?
I realise I am getting ahead of myself. Being here does keep the issue on the front burner. I am careful not to linger at the house. For the most part I am not so inclined. I find that I still require solitude. The depression is lightened and I am kept busy with my duties once more, but being faced with the differences each and every day is a bit of an icey shower. Each evening I am in retreat just after tea and sometimes before. I will take my evening meal here in the flat during the week. This is my decision, moreover this is my choice.
Unlike before, apart from the requirements of my occupation, I am under my own authority, not hers. If there is to be a regiment I shall have to set it up myself. Whereas once I was assigned many tasks to keep me busy throughout the day and given assigned studies to turn my attentions to at night, I am now unshackled. I do only those things that meet the criteria of an HM's post during working hours. It is no longer my place to do such things as the gardening, mucking the stables, or drawing her bath.
I have the day off today. Technically I was not 'working' yesterday, but as I was in the house I could not stop myself from a bit of polish and organisation.
It has snowed overnight but as the sun is out it is melting quite quickly. By midday there may be little evidence of the evening's percipitation. I should find something to do.
Chauncey
Saturday, 22 March 2008
Full Circle
It seems that nothing in my recent life is straight forward. When Michael returned I had great expectations for a very happy reunion. It seems that was not to be, at least not in the manner which I expected. He has changed.
I do not wish to be misunderstood in this. He is finding the way back to his former life and I accept that. It becomes difficult in that he has "returned to his roots" and taken back a religion that demands he give up all of his connection to persons who are not of his faith. He assures me this is not permanent. It is only that he is beginning again in his spiritual journey and thus not strong in it. Myself or anyone else that is living in disbelief and sin could cause him to fall back from his newfound rededication.
I suppose because I have been so close to the precipice lately it was one disappointment too many. I was distraught and restless. I felt hopeless and every sorrowful event that has happened to me in the past several years came pouring into my memory like a flood.
This seems to happen when we are emotional. One episode of tears for one cause seems to pull in a myriad of others from even the distant past. Has anyone else cried over a recent loss only to remember another, and another? Soon you are sat there, your face tear-streaked, crying over the death of a relative gone five years, or the first person who broke your heart.
Speaking to anyone did not help, even the most well-meaning could not break through to stand with me in my misery. In a year I have lost everything but my parents. Thank the powers that be that has not happened. Through illness I have lost my former proficiency and level of performance on my beloved woodwinds, reducing me from primary oboist in a local orchestra to music teacher only. Victoria and I lost our precious baby, Celestia, to stillbirth. Then by my own decision the relationship to Victoria was terminated due to a major occurance, and now Michael has separated himself and it feels as though we are strangers.
A few are arguing that I am ill prepared for all of this as I have been a consensual slave on an everyday basis since the age of 19. I will admit that is a possibility. I have led a very regimented lifestyle all my life, but even moreso when I was here before.
Yes... here.
I returned to the estate yesterday afternoon.
My parents are very concerned but I have explained to them it will not be the same. I am not here in my former capacity any longer. Neither Victoria nor myself are going to relate to each other as we once did. I am here to do my former, and now present job. I am living in the flat (formerly the boys' flat), just as the housekeeper, Fiona, lives in her cottage here on the property. I shall work for my wage and keep up a proper friendship (for the time) with Victoria.
I will say that she was not expecting me. I left my parents' home of my own accord to speak to Victoria. I let them know in no uncertain terms that I planned to stay if she would allow me there. Promising to speak to them daily I assured them I would certainly continue my therapy.
Yes, they were very reluctant to allow me leave. I hugged them both tightly. Mother and I were tearful, but remarkably, so was father. He is not one to show those sort of emotions. He told me that what I proposed to do was madness but by the same token he acknowledged that I am a grown man who must make his own decisions. Michael was not there at the time I left. I feel that was for the best as I'm sure he would have done anything to prevent me going.
So, I write now from the my own little corner, what was formerly "the boys' flat". If I can find a DIY store open today I will purchase some paint and perhaps hang a few photos of my family. The piano is still here and that cheers me. I shall work on my recovery. I shall work at my job diligently as any employee should. As I was telling a friend, this estate is home to me. It is the house I have cared for so well. I know it's every crack and crevice. I have a sense of purpose here.
Mentally and emotionally I feel more settled, if only by virtue of being here alone. Perhaps to some I have regressed, but in my heart I feel as though I am coming full circle. I have returned home.
For the time being I shall be placing the date and time beneath my name. I have yet to sort how one changes the time and date settings on this blog site. I suppose until such time I will appear to be somewhere in America. The correct time and date is shown beneath my signature line.
Chauncey
March 22, 2008 7:10am
PS: I have sorted the date and time. For some quite odd reason my settings were for the Pacific time zone in the US. Perhaps I was on holiday in California unaware? :)
I do not wish to be misunderstood in this. He is finding the way back to his former life and I accept that. It becomes difficult in that he has "returned to his roots" and taken back a religion that demands he give up all of his connection to persons who are not of his faith. He assures me this is not permanent. It is only that he is beginning again in his spiritual journey and thus not strong in it. Myself or anyone else that is living in disbelief and sin could cause him to fall back from his newfound rededication.
I suppose because I have been so close to the precipice lately it was one disappointment too many. I was distraught and restless. I felt hopeless and every sorrowful event that has happened to me in the past several years came pouring into my memory like a flood.
This seems to happen when we are emotional. One episode of tears for one cause seems to pull in a myriad of others from even the distant past. Has anyone else cried over a recent loss only to remember another, and another? Soon you are sat there, your face tear-streaked, crying over the death of a relative gone five years, or the first person who broke your heart.
Speaking to anyone did not help, even the most well-meaning could not break through to stand with me in my misery. In a year I have lost everything but my parents. Thank the powers that be that has not happened. Through illness I have lost my former proficiency and level of performance on my beloved woodwinds, reducing me from primary oboist in a local orchestra to music teacher only. Victoria and I lost our precious baby, Celestia, to stillbirth. Then by my own decision the relationship to Victoria was terminated due to a major occurance, and now Michael has separated himself and it feels as though we are strangers.
A few are arguing that I am ill prepared for all of this as I have been a consensual slave on an everyday basis since the age of 19. I will admit that is a possibility. I have led a very regimented lifestyle all my life, but even moreso when I was here before.
Yes... here.
I returned to the estate yesterday afternoon.
My parents are very concerned but I have explained to them it will not be the same. I am not here in my former capacity any longer. Neither Victoria nor myself are going to relate to each other as we once did. I am here to do my former, and now present job. I am living in the flat (formerly the boys' flat), just as the housekeeper, Fiona, lives in her cottage here on the property. I shall work for my wage and keep up a proper friendship (for the time) with Victoria.
I will say that she was not expecting me. I left my parents' home of my own accord to speak to Victoria. I let them know in no uncertain terms that I planned to stay if she would allow me there. Promising to speak to them daily I assured them I would certainly continue my therapy.
Yes, they were very reluctant to allow me leave. I hugged them both tightly. Mother and I were tearful, but remarkably, so was father. He is not one to show those sort of emotions. He told me that what I proposed to do was madness but by the same token he acknowledged that I am a grown man who must make his own decisions. Michael was not there at the time I left. I feel that was for the best as I'm sure he would have done anything to prevent me going.
So, I write now from the my own little corner, what was formerly "the boys' flat". If I can find a DIY store open today I will purchase some paint and perhaps hang a few photos of my family. The piano is still here and that cheers me. I shall work on my recovery. I shall work at my job diligently as any employee should. As I was telling a friend, this estate is home to me. It is the house I have cared for so well. I know it's every crack and crevice. I have a sense of purpose here.
Mentally and emotionally I feel more settled, if only by virtue of being here alone. Perhaps to some I have regressed, but in my heart I feel as though I am coming full circle. I have returned home.
For the time being I shall be placing the date and time beneath my name. I have yet to sort how one changes the time and date settings on this blog site. I suppose until such time I will appear to be somewhere in America. The correct time and date is shown beneath my signature line.
Chauncey
March 22, 2008 7:10am
PS: I have sorted the date and time. For some quite odd reason my settings were for the Pacific time zone in the US. Perhaps I was on holiday in California unaware? :)
Saturday, 15 March 2008
The Return of Michael
That subject line sounds so sensational, perhaps much like a horror film title. But it is no horror. It is sheer joy.
He was a bit worn from the flight, which he said was quite turbulent nearly all night. He could not sleep and so he sleeps now cosy in fresh sheets covered with the new quilt.
I am quietly sitting at the computer desk in the same room. It took him approximately six minutes from lying prostrate to snoring softly. He looks like a puppy all curled up in the quilt. Poor boy.
He had promised there would be a surprise. It was a bit of a surprise indeed. I very nearly did not recognise him.
Firstly his hair has been cropped quite short, his face is cleanly shaven, and he is dressed smartly. He is tan and looks very well. But the surprise gives him a completely different air.
Whilst in Miami his Aunt persuaded (he says bullied) him to see the optometrist and he now wears glasses. I snapped a picture of him with them on but he made me swear an oath not to post the photo here. He is still quite self conscious about it. I inquired as to why he did not opt for contact lenses, to which he said he had them but couldn't get them into his eyes. He has tried but to no avail. Of course I said I would do my best to help him.
I personally believe the glasses give him a more mature and refined look, quite dignified. He has changed so much from the boy he was two years ago.
He is all things together in one... Man and boy... playful, intelligent, sensual and serious. I admire him for who he seems to have become and I'm quite proud of him.
We talked a bit in the car. He told me it was good to go back to Miami for a bit and clear his head. I asked if seeing me upset him at all, as perhaps I might be a reminder of unpleasant things that had happened. He only smiled that big Michael smile and assured me he was happy to be here again.
He commented on the weather saying he can tell he is back in England as it is grey and overcast. I told him he missed the sun as that was yesterday. It was good to laugh together.
Tonight I will make a nice meal for him, and indulge his sweet tooth with brownies (he opted for the the walnuts variety) and ice cream. Monday we shall go and speak to the solicitors.
All appears well.
Just looking at him... I feel a swelling of love in my heart.
I am happy he is home.
Chauncey
He was a bit worn from the flight, which he said was quite turbulent nearly all night. He could not sleep and so he sleeps now cosy in fresh sheets covered with the new quilt.
I am quietly sitting at the computer desk in the same room. It took him approximately six minutes from lying prostrate to snoring softly. He looks like a puppy all curled up in the quilt. Poor boy.
He had promised there would be a surprise. It was a bit of a surprise indeed. I very nearly did not recognise him.
Firstly his hair has been cropped quite short, his face is cleanly shaven, and he is dressed smartly. He is tan and looks very well. But the surprise gives him a completely different air.
Whilst in Miami his Aunt persuaded (he says bullied) him to see the optometrist and he now wears glasses. I snapped a picture of him with them on but he made me swear an oath not to post the photo here. He is still quite self conscious about it. I inquired as to why he did not opt for contact lenses, to which he said he had them but couldn't get them into his eyes. He has tried but to no avail. Of course I said I would do my best to help him.
I personally believe the glasses give him a more mature and refined look, quite dignified. He has changed so much from the boy he was two years ago.
He is all things together in one... Man and boy... playful, intelligent, sensual and serious. I admire him for who he seems to have become and I'm quite proud of him.
We talked a bit in the car. He told me it was good to go back to Miami for a bit and clear his head. I asked if seeing me upset him at all, as perhaps I might be a reminder of unpleasant things that had happened. He only smiled that big Michael smile and assured me he was happy to be here again.
He commented on the weather saying he can tell he is back in England as it is grey and overcast. I told him he missed the sun as that was yesterday. It was good to laugh together.
Tonight I will make a nice meal for him, and indulge his sweet tooth with brownies (he opted for the the walnuts variety) and ice cream. Monday we shall go and speak to the solicitors.
All appears well.
Just looking at him... I feel a swelling of love in my heart.
I am happy he is home.
Chauncey
Friday, 14 March 2008
Exuberant!
This morning I am feeling quite well. I have cause for celebration.
I received a phone call from Michael late last evening to indicate that he will be arriving at Heathrow tomorrow morning. This was not a certainty before the call. He had considered remaining in Miami for another two weeks.
I am almost ashamed of my excitement.
He stated that he shall be staying in the UK until June when the baby arrives and almost certainly a bit after to attend to custody details. What is more he shall be staying here with myself and my parents.
Those of you who know me will not be surprised when I say that today I shall be quite harried, dashing about to attend to ever detail. I must nip out to the shops to get some of his favourite foods, a selection of meat cuts from the butchers, Ben and Jerry's cookie dough ice cream and also the ingredients needed to bake 'brownies', with and without walnuts. (It often depends on his mood)
As he will be staying over an extended period of time I intend to purchase new linens for the bed, as well as new pillows.
I shall drive over to Victoria's and retrieve the wii from the boy's flat today and also make a trip to the library to take out a number of books written by his favourite authors. (Being the thorough sort that I am, I have kept a list of all the books he has read and of those he has not.)
I shall plan a few day trips for he and I and perhaps a few projects that we might both enjoy.
I am nothing short of gleeful this morning.
Am I being swept away?
I do not care.
It's simply brilliant!
Chauncey
Thursday, 13 March 2008
Parcel of the Past (My writings)
For approximately one year I have been working on a manuscript, the subject of which has been the story of how I became involved in the BDSM lifestyle and ultimately came to serve Mistress Victoria. In all the recent upheaval I inadvertantly left it behind when I returned home.
Yesterday I received a rather bulky parcel in the post from Victoria, and as you may have surmised, it was the manuscript with a note attached.
"Ryan, although I am in no position to command you, I do wish you would continue your fine work with this. I have read it all, through tears and laughter, and am thoroughly
convinced your story should not go untold. I implore you to finish it and submit it for publication. Victoria"
To punctuate Her request, this morning She has sent a courier round with all of my journals. All 16 volumes. I relied heavily upon my journals, which by agreement were Her property during my consensual captivity, to recount the past with clarity. Their full ownership has apparently now been given back over to myself.
I do appreciate Her prodding, but at present I am not entirely certain I could bear to write about the past. I had reached the point at which Michael (my submissive brother) entered into the household and it is this portion of the telling that will be the most difficult emotionally.
I still dearly miss Michael's presence. Each time my thoughts return to him I recall how we clashed so strongly at the beginning of his training. It was quite pronounced. My annoyance with him rose to the point that even in a public setting I was occasionally ill-mannered and verbally terse with him. Over time we overcame our differences and grew to care very much for one another...
I do still have contact with him by phone and email, but as you might imagine, this can not compare to physical presence, sight and touch, the reading of body language, the ease of embracing or working alongside one another. We shared a life; working, eating, sleeping, running, and playing together. We became brothers in earnest, as well as lovers. Phone and email communication are not adequate substitutes. Though we will see one another again, it will never be the same as it once was.
As well as the memories of Michael, there are the memories of Victoria's decline in what is yet to be written. All of this is still quite fresh. Some might say that is the best time to write, when the heart still feels it and the mind still grasps the details.
My frail humanity is all that stops me.
Whoever said that women are the only ones to feel deeply, to be reduced to tears and brokeness in the silences? How foolish are those males that do not allow that they also have a right to bleed... to truly feel the pain of loss when a vital part of their life is removed.
I detest machismo, that unwritten dictation to the male of the species that says he may not openly express emotion (unless it is anger, which for some reason seems to be acceptable). I, for one, shall not abide it. I have shed tears in open places just as freely as I have laughed in the same. What do I care if others gawk? If it heals my spirit to allow expression then I shall do so, with dignity of course.
But again, I have strayed from my point.
The writings...
I cannot even be sure that what I have put to paper is worthy of publication. Would anyone truly wish to read something of this nature? What would be the purpose? Would it help anyone at all? These things I do not know.
It is time for a walk. I shall go out into this day... and if I wish to laugh, to cry... to run through the fields...
I shall do so.
Chauncey
Yesterday I received a rather bulky parcel in the post from Victoria, and as you may have surmised, it was the manuscript with a note attached.
"Ryan, although I am in no position to command you, I do wish you would continue your fine work with this. I have read it all, through tears and laughter, and am thoroughly
convinced your story should not go untold. I implore you to finish it and submit it for publication. Victoria"
To punctuate Her request, this morning She has sent a courier round with all of my journals. All 16 volumes. I relied heavily upon my journals, which by agreement were Her property during my consensual captivity, to recount the past with clarity. Their full ownership has apparently now been given back over to myself.
I do appreciate Her prodding, but at present I am not entirely certain I could bear to write about the past. I had reached the point at which Michael (my submissive brother) entered into the household and it is this portion of the telling that will be the most difficult emotionally.
I still dearly miss Michael's presence. Each time my thoughts return to him I recall how we clashed so strongly at the beginning of his training. It was quite pronounced. My annoyance with him rose to the point that even in a public setting I was occasionally ill-mannered and verbally terse with him. Over time we overcame our differences and grew to care very much for one another...
I do still have contact with him by phone and email, but as you might imagine, this can not compare to physical presence, sight and touch, the reading of body language, the ease of embracing or working alongside one another. We shared a life; working, eating, sleeping, running, and playing together. We became brothers in earnest, as well as lovers. Phone and email communication are not adequate substitutes. Though we will see one another again, it will never be the same as it once was.
As well as the memories of Michael, there are the memories of Victoria's decline in what is yet to be written. All of this is still quite fresh. Some might say that is the best time to write, when the heart still feels it and the mind still grasps the details.
My frail humanity is all that stops me.
Whoever said that women are the only ones to feel deeply, to be reduced to tears and brokeness in the silences? How foolish are those males that do not allow that they also have a right to bleed... to truly feel the pain of loss when a vital part of their life is removed.
I detest machismo, that unwritten dictation to the male of the species that says he may not openly express emotion (unless it is anger, which for some reason seems to be acceptable). I, for one, shall not abide it. I have shed tears in open places just as freely as I have laughed in the same. What do I care if others gawk? If it heals my spirit to allow expression then I shall do so, with dignity of course.
But again, I have strayed from my point.
The writings...
I cannot even be sure that what I have put to paper is worthy of publication. Would anyone truly wish to read something of this nature? What would be the purpose? Would it help anyone at all? These things I do not know.
It is time for a walk. I shall go out into this day... and if I wish to laugh, to cry... to run through the fields...
I shall do so.
Chauncey
Tuesday, 11 March 2008
Strong Winds and Strong Feelings
I find that taking a walk sometimes helps to clear the mind. I did so early this morning and have only just returned within the last half hour.
As seems to be the case across the country, the winds are high as a result of the storm. With the sunrise the skies began to clear and I took particular notice of the heralding signs of spring. Every year we take heart when the daffs and crocuses appear. The buds of leaves on the trees, and the new branches sprouting on rose bushes, the starlings nesting in the eaves of our house... all offer the promise of warmer weather and brighter colour in the seasons to come.
The earth is renewing itself. I am attempting to renew myself.
The breath of fresh (and a bit furious) air does help.
I have felt a bit better since Saturday when Victoria and I had dinner together. It was not exactly a date by the usual standard, it was more a discussion of the past and the possible future that took place over a meal.
A brokenhearted person is likely more apt to take any positive words from their beloved as a good sign of hope for the future. I tried, mostly in vain, not to indulge too high a hope.
It was a cordial meeting. There were no harsh words. We were humble with one another.
There was no sense of irritation at all but it was awkward, particularly at the onset.
Our relationship to one another has always followed the format of Mistress and boy. She has been the ultimate authority, the person the final decisions rested with, the one who directed the course of our lives. She trained me to belong to Her. Rare were the departures from this framework. Thus to sit across from Her at table and not receive directives gave me a slight sense of discomposure.
She would not allow me to call Her 'Ms', but asked kindly if I would not mind referring to Her as Victoria. I assured Her I would put forth the effort, but asked that She forgive any lapses into old habits. She simply smiled and said She understood. She made it quite clear to me that She no longer wishes to carry on in the BDSM lifestyle, and that if we are to have a relationship in future it shall be strictly vanilla.
I cannot exactly describe what it is I feel about the new Victoria. It is very different to see Her become meek and even somewhat timid. Part of me fears that a strong part of my attraction to Her had to do with the power She wielded. This brings about a question I am not sure I am prepared to ask myself.
Will I love Her new persona as much sans the dominance and authority She had over me?
I pray the answer will be yes. If the passion fades, what does this say about me? Did I love only the discipline, the chastisement and the objectification? How shameful it would be to think I have been only selfish, loving what She afforded me in stimulation rather than loving Her for the person She is.
My mother would counsel me not to ponder it too deeply at this point... to take each day as it comes... to believe that if the relationship is meant to be we shall find a way. She would say I am getting too far ahead of myself. Perhaps so. But the mind takes a thought or premise and runs with it down a myriad of twisting trails.
In the final assessment I realise that both Victoria and I must be true to ourselves...
These are the sort of thoughts that lead me to pursue the outdoors... to take the walk that freshens and cleanses and distracts. Perhaps I shall venture out again.
Chauncey
As seems to be the case across the country, the winds are high as a result of the storm. With the sunrise the skies began to clear and I took particular notice of the heralding signs of spring. Every year we take heart when the daffs and crocuses appear. The buds of leaves on the trees, and the new branches sprouting on rose bushes, the starlings nesting in the eaves of our house... all offer the promise of warmer weather and brighter colour in the seasons to come.
The earth is renewing itself. I am attempting to renew myself.
The breath of fresh (and a bit furious) air does help.
I have felt a bit better since Saturday when Victoria and I had dinner together. It was not exactly a date by the usual standard, it was more a discussion of the past and the possible future that took place over a meal.
A brokenhearted person is likely more apt to take any positive words from their beloved as a good sign of hope for the future. I tried, mostly in vain, not to indulge too high a hope.
It was a cordial meeting. There were no harsh words. We were humble with one another.
There was no sense of irritation at all but it was awkward, particularly at the onset.
Our relationship to one another has always followed the format of Mistress and boy. She has been the ultimate authority, the person the final decisions rested with, the one who directed the course of our lives. She trained me to belong to Her. Rare were the departures from this framework. Thus to sit across from Her at table and not receive directives gave me a slight sense of discomposure.
She would not allow me to call Her 'Ms', but asked kindly if I would not mind referring to Her as Victoria. I assured Her I would put forth the effort, but asked that She forgive any lapses into old habits. She simply smiled and said She understood. She made it quite clear to me that She no longer wishes to carry on in the BDSM lifestyle, and that if we are to have a relationship in future it shall be strictly vanilla.
I cannot exactly describe what it is I feel about the new Victoria. It is very different to see Her become meek and even somewhat timid. Part of me fears that a strong part of my attraction to Her had to do with the power She wielded. This brings about a question I am not sure I am prepared to ask myself.
Will I love Her new persona as much sans the dominance and authority She had over me?
I pray the answer will be yes. If the passion fades, what does this say about me? Did I love only the discipline, the chastisement and the objectification? How shameful it would be to think I have been only selfish, loving what She afforded me in stimulation rather than loving Her for the person She is.
My mother would counsel me not to ponder it too deeply at this point... to take each day as it comes... to believe that if the relationship is meant to be we shall find a way. She would say I am getting too far ahead of myself. Perhaps so. But the mind takes a thought or premise and runs with it down a myriad of twisting trails.
In the final assessment I realise that both Victoria and I must be true to ourselves...
...
These are the sort of thoughts that lead me to pursue the outdoors... to take the walk that freshens and cleanses and distracts. Perhaps I shall venture out again.
Chauncey
Monday, 10 March 2008
First Posting
In this first post I shall give a abbreviated history of recent events in my life in order that readers may understand better that which I shall write about. For anyone requiring more details, my former blog may be found at http://rgray1981.blog.co.uk/.
In the past month I have come out of submissive service to Dominant Woman. I was Her consensual servant and intimately involved with Her for 8 years. Whilst on the estate I took on the role of HM/butler for Victoria, as well as cook and musical entertainment for Herself and Her guests when called for.
In essence I am having to begin my life anew and it has not been without it's difficulties to date. I was, and am still, very much in love with Her.
Currently I have moved back to my parents home in Cambridgeshire primarily for the emotional support my family can provide until I am able to lift myself out of the mire. I am under treatment with a therapist to help me find my way back into the stream of life.
I realise this is quite personal for a first posting. Many have questioned my need to speak openly about my life in a blog. I can only say that I am very private in person. I find it difficult to speak in the presence of people about matters which I feel are perhaps too intimate. In blogs I have a greater sense of freedom and peace. Writing is much easier for me. It soothes my soul.
There are feelings that need to be released. At this point in my life I feel sorrowful and confused about the direction I should take. After a very regimented existance with Ms, I feel as though I am in freefall now. I have no purpose in life. I do not truly know where to begin.
For now I will simply write my feelings. This is mainly a therepeutic venture as I feel sure no one will read this at first. I have no friends here. These things take a bit of time.
Chauncey
In the past month I have come out of submissive service to Dominant Woman. I was Her consensual servant and intimately involved with Her for 8 years. Whilst on the estate I took on the role of HM/butler for Victoria, as well as cook and musical entertainment for Herself and Her guests when called for.
In essence I am having to begin my life anew and it has not been without it's difficulties to date. I was, and am still, very much in love with Her.
Currently I have moved back to my parents home in Cambridgeshire primarily for the emotional support my family can provide until I am able to lift myself out of the mire. I am under treatment with a therapist to help me find my way back into the stream of life.
I realise this is quite personal for a first posting. Many have questioned my need to speak openly about my life in a blog. I can only say that I am very private in person. I find it difficult to speak in the presence of people about matters which I feel are perhaps too intimate. In blogs I have a greater sense of freedom and peace. Writing is much easier for me. It soothes my soul.
There are feelings that need to be released. At this point in my life I feel sorrowful and confused about the direction I should take. After a very regimented existance with Ms, I feel as though I am in freefall now. I have no purpose in life. I do not truly know where to begin.
For now I will simply write my feelings. This is mainly a therepeutic venture as I feel sure no one will read this at first. I have no friends here. These things take a bit of time.
Chauncey
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