Here's a question for you.

When you are in bondage: 

 Do you struggle the whole time?

 Do you struggle to test the bondage them relax once you know you can't get free?

The question came up the last night when mike gagged me with socks that he had worn all weekend then tied me with my arms pulled up behind my back.  He tied my ankles so my legs were crossed and then tied a rope around my neck and pulled that down to my ankles.  I struggled like hell but then stopped when I knew for sure that I couldn't escape.

Mike wanted to see me struggle more but I sunk into such a submissive state that I was more interested in feeling helpless and the increasing pain caused by my position.

 I have lived in Colorado for some time now.  It is my home base, so speak.   Things have changed over the years.  The group that "purchased" the Cloverdale property failed.  The intent of running of the property was good but they never attracted enough members so that they could afford to pay the mortgage so the place fell into near ruin before the bank contacted me with an urgent offer to take the over again at a lower cost than I had sold it.

I had to.  My Great Uncle must have been angry as my "home" seemed to terrify every person who considered purchasing it.  They were all convinced that the property was very, very haunted. The olive trees were gnarled beyond their age and stopped bearing fruit. The vineyards were also send twisted creepers across the ground from row to row.  Rodents and insect infestation nearly whipped out all of the vegetation except the overgrown grass that was brown and suffering from neglect and drought.

Ian disappeared several years ago while I was in New York at a gallery opening. Not a soul could account for him.  He hadn't been seen in London or Germany.  His bank accounts and credit cards hadn't been touched.  His passport had been left in the center drawer of his desk.  I gave up searching after a year.  Friends convinced me to move on with my life which I fought until it became obvious that he was gone and never to be found again.  I left the locks unchanged, hoping that he would return someday.

I travel from Colorado to California often to see the progress on the work at Cloverdale.  I've hired a caretaker and his wife to manage the property and manage the labor as they reconstruct what had been lost.  It was hard to keep help at first but as I found more time to work there myself, the hauntings subsided and help is more apt to stay.  One of the Mexican laborer's wife is a Shaman who insists that she has been able to subdue my angry uncle's spirit.  Whatever, things are becoming more positive.

I am more at ease with my own life these days. Mad Mike from Georgia has moved to Colorado to try to take over where Ian left off. We've been friends off and on for years but never got to the state of being lovers. Its been difficult because Ian and I are still officially married.  Being tied up by him never approaches the intensity that I felt with Ian but we still get our kicks.

I'm hoping to find time to write here several times a week.

108 Days an Object

I hesitate to write about this, not wanting another "slave" who fantasize about being kept as an objectified human thing that is treated with fewer rights than an animal.

I had talked about wanting to be a slave who had nothing more in life than to spend his entire life serving a Master. Master and I lived the life. To a great extent, I had been living, more voluntarily than by his demand, as his servant. If you read my blog you will see just how we related to each other.

One of the scenarios that we played out from time to time was to kept as a object, less than a slave with no way out of the situation for what ever time he decided to keep me. He and his friends kept me bound for as long as they thought I was getting off on it. They would push my "limits" (my desire to play) then let me out.

I'd essentially given up on the idea of being an object and even got turned off to the idea once I learned of people captured by sociopathic criminals. I think that the lines between that behavior and playing out the concept as a kinky activity became blurred. I was becoming sickened by the reality of the violence in the world and wanted to step back from play long enough to sort out my feelings and somehow justify my desires and separate them from the result of violence that truly harms innocent victims.  I hadn't talk about objectification or my desire to experience for quite a while, simply because of ambiguous feelings.

You may know that it is legal to carry a weapon in public in Colorado. I'm not sure what precipitated it but Master bought everyone on the ranch a side arm and holster, expecting them to be worn at all times. I think he got off on the way it looks. I carried one too. We practiced handling them so we all knew how to use them should the need arise.

New Years Eve

Snow was falling in our area of the Mountains even though it seemed warm.  We had eaten a late meal of aged rib eye steaks and beer from one of the crafters in Denver. The eight men of the household were tipsy when we pushed away from the table. I cleaned the table and kitchen then joined the guys in a game of billiards. As we began to sober up, Master began to rough me up. He locked a heavy collar around my neck and connected by a chain behind my back to wrist irons and then to irons that were locked round my ankles. He walked my down to the dungeon with the other guys following.  The seven men raped me ass and mouth until each of them a spent inside of me at lead once. The also pissed on and inside of me both ass and mouth.

The men locked a chain to one of the ankle irons then locked the free end of the chain to a ring in the wall.  Master gagged me then they all went upstairs to uncork bottles of champagne and drank themselves to sleep.

They came down late the next day. The unchained me then restrained me on a table with leather straps where they spent the next few hours waxing every single hair from my head, face and body. Max held his side arm in my mouth and told me to keep quiet or he would blow my head off. Those were the last words that they spoke to me except to bark orders at me. They beat me with a leather strap when they finished waxing me then all took turns fucking me.

From that point on, I was an object to be used, tortured, beaten, pissed on and in, cummed in and on and even shit on. They washed me with a powerful jet of cold water from a hose when I was too stinking filthy for them to be able to stand.  I saw nothing but bright lights when they used or fed me or tortured me and jet blackness when they me left alone.

There was no way to count the days. It would have been useless anyway because I did not know how long they would keep me as a prisoner.

Boredom and fear filled my head. When I wasn't gagged I could yell and scream at them. I demanded release and threatened them. I also begged for release but they simple seemed to ignore me, treating without apparent passion, even when they tormented me. Sometimes, in my most desperate hours, I tried to hold my breath long enough to die. It never worked. I spent many hours crying all to no avail.

The men released me on April 17th after beating, torturing and fucking me.  Master held his gun to my head and told me that if I ever told anyone one they had done to me that they would bury me alive out in the wood.

I took a long hot shower in the dungeon bath.  Master stood watch over me and we talked.

In the end, life went on as it always has.  The guys were as affection as ever. I still haven't wanted to talk to them about my experience but I know why they objectified me and understand that it was a gift that they sometimes were reluctant to give.

Science Fiction

Silke David,

The last post sounded like science fiction because it is almost total bullshit. Trace was very sick and spent most of a month in a hospital. He has, in essence, disappeared from daily life around here,

As we have written about from time to time, he is a sleep walker. There was a night in September when he walked out of the house in the middle of the night, he was stark naked. This time he walked into the pine forest. He caught a cold that escalated into pneumonia that escalated into other things. It was hell for a while but he is home and he is regaining his stamina.

Anyway, I had a dream about him disappearing completely one night and wrote about it as if the reality of my dream was more than just in my head.

Trace's Return

Trace woke me up on three consecutive nights. Each time, he asked me if I heard "something" that woke him up. I didn't hear anything but the dogs restlessly moving in their sleep. The Tibetan woke slightly let out a deep partially formed "woof" and then went back to sleep. We're accustomed to them making sleeping dog noises. Tommy lays restlessly at our feet, away of boy's every move.

We sleep nude in a cool room covered with blankets and comforter.

The third night was especially odd. Trace was looking out the window when he asked if I heard the noise. He said it was like a very low pitch whirring in the far distance. I didn't hear anything and on top of that none of the dogs seemed alerted by anything.

Tommy woke me up early the next morning. He was adamant about getting me to follow him to the deck door which was thrown wide open. It's usually the boy who attends to him. I thought that perhaps the boy went outside and accidently left the door. I looked out on the deck for him but he wasn't there. I got myself dressed and went outside to find him. by that time the dogs were outside looking for him. He was no where to be found. He was no where in the house. I woke up the other guys to help me look for him. He is a sleep walk and sometimes sleep runner. I called up the GPS monitor to track him but it could not locate him. He was no where to be found.

We called the Sherriff. We looked for him for two days before calling in the Federal Authorities. There was an all out search. The Feds eventually told us to keep looking but keep our search quiet. (odd?) We kept up our search with the help of authorities. We wanted to publicize the search and get locals to help comb the mountains and forests. A few people went out but the authorities called them in.

It could have been a high profile case but his disappearance was kept quiet except for telling close friends who came to help us.

Yesterday:
It was a bout 6:am when the dogs started clamoring. The went outside via the dog door in the lower level. They ran out toward the fields where there are no fences. Trace was walking up the side of the mountain toward the house. He was naked and cold. He walked briskly surrounded by the dogs. I ran out to get him and bring him inside. He was cheerful and lucid, as if he had just stepped outside. He was unaware that he had gone missing for nearly a month.

To all concerned, Trace is home and healthy.

Not Sure

I'm not in the mood to write much these days. We hired people to do the grunt work around the ranch but there is so much more to do here that I find myself outside working more. Time flies and the day is gone before I realize the sun is dropping below the mountains. It has been very warm and sunny almost every day and cool at night. It's been overcast and cool today so I decided to stay in the studio where it is warm.

We have been playing out breath control fantasies lately. I keep those activities private because playing with breath control is so fucking dangerous. Suffice to say that it is extremely satisfying when done with Master because I know that he will satisfy my wildest fantasies while keeping me safe.

To answer Anonymous: Neither of us willanswer questions from people who can't identify themselves, even with a pseudonym.

Quiet Saturday

Silke David:  The Denver loft turned into a condo for our friends and family when they stay in Denver. It has a small playroom behind a moveable bookcase. It is a bit of James Bond or should I say "Bound".

The studio is going to be attached through a long glassed in hallway to the house with a lounge area/sunroom. The boy can stay natural, even when he works.

Speaking of the boy, I took him to the dungeon last night and tortured the hell out of him to hours before I got tired. He's fuckin marked and bruised. I left him tightly hogtied for the night and so far today. I figured out a new way of getting him all torture tight without cutting off circulation. I can tell he hates it although he never complains except to egg me on. I stood over him last night and came all over him instead of fucking him. He hates that too.