You are owned?????
And so the visit began. Well, it began earlier but, that was a defining moment. I end up with five days off (all in a row) and so I decide I am going to visit my Vancouver based friend who is a natural born Domme (that is not apparent initially, that is my assessment after having spent three days with her)....and more interestingly, a highly intelligent and perceptive individual who is able and willing to let hints of her life shine through in conversation. I go to the visit as a friend but I know and she knows that I am a sub. But, the deal is that we will visit as friends and it works out better as we have clear expectations. I show up, she texts me that she is in the laundry room but will be down to open the door shortly. The weather is overcast but warm and her lair is two blocks from the water and two blocks from Stanley Park....excellent location. So, up we go, it's a cool building and she allows me inside to her home which is even cooler. It is well appointed, well equipped, and multifunctional. It is clean, clean, clean....the fixtures are high end....and the whole space is well decorated. Suffice it to say, I am impressed. As promised, there are beer waiting for me in the fridge and I crack the first one after 17 hours of bus travel. Gawd, why people would choose to travel over 4 hours by bus is beyond me, but they do. And, I did. In any event, the beer goes down well. I am slightly nervous, wait, not nervous, it is just the "first meeting" jitters, we have only exchanged emails to this point so the reality is now. And....my impression off the "now" is wow, cool chick this is. She is friendly, smiley, funny, and smart. We are chatting about this and that and, in the back of my mind, I am thinking....she's not that Domme and she just likes to enjoy things. Error number one. I meet her soon to be ex roommate who is moving out on her own within two days. They have a complicated relationship (who doesn't) but the roommate is very quietly intelligent and interesting to visit with. One beer becomes two, two becomes three, and so on. Somewhere after the third or fourth beer, the Mistress says "remove your pants and shorts". Out of the blue and a tossaway line in the conversation. Of course I do, it embarasses me but it thrills me all the same. I think to myself, she surely cannot be pleased with what she sees but logic tells me it matters not. We continue to chat. Also somewhere along that line, her slave/sub is between my knees and I get a blowjob from a good looking female slave. I don't recall how that all ended up happening, I can only guarantee it wasn't at my request so it must have been controlled by the Mistress. This is also the time where I end up saying "well, actually I am owned" and the instant reply in unison from them both is "Then WHAT are you doing here?" This launched into an explanation on my part of my current situation and how I do not FEEL owned as it has been going on for four months, she lives in the city, she has my number, I have hers, we know where one another live and....she has yet to permit a meeting. Frankly, I feel as though I might well be wasting my time. There is a discussion about this and I indicate that the owner is asking the right questions, providing enough latitude, keeping a firm hand as best she can from remote control....but....there is that overriding need and sense of missing the tactile and personal interaction of personal contact. Having just been chewed out over the phone for not completing some tasks, I am once again in a funky place. Do I wait for her? Logically, yes....emotionally, no. But, I digress. (Update on that situation, I am unowned, I came clean that I had gone off to Vangroovie to visit a domme type and that went down like a lead zeppelin....oh well, better to push the stick into the fire than to wonder if there is actually a fire).
Night one draws to a drunken and stuporous conclusion. I am hazy on details but I am permitted to join the Mistress and her slave in the big bed. I know well enough to keep my hands to myself and do so. Still, it was a wonderful way to conclude the first day and I was incredibly appreciative.
Which way is the Syliva??
The next day dawns....and we sleep....and slightly after mid day begin to wake. It is decided that we will help the roommate move her stuff and so the day is spent doing a bit of that (movers were hired so it wasn't a stretch)....it also is the sort of last day they will spend together as roomies and so I am thinking to myself....I should get the fuck out of here for a while so they can visit. I know Freyja's place is close to the Silvia and I recall a nifty little pub there....so I get directions (i.e. a finger pointing..."go that way dork") and walk the two blocks down to it. Thankfully, my sweater was left unmolested at this fine establishment. The beers go down nicely and the memories of my previous visits are good....sometimes baggage is enjoyable to sift through...sometimes not. This baggage was enjoyable. There is a delightful German couple with wierd shoes who become reasonable companions for that period.
You know what??? Fuck the details. All that matters is that I had one of the singularly most interesting experiences of my life. Miss Freyja is a delight, she's intelligent, she's perceptive, and she's flawed and admits so. I can think of no finer qualities in a fellow human being.
Will I repeat? If permitted, absolutely. I have opened another Go Visit Freyja Fund at the local bank but with the number one daughter proroguing her higher education (fixed!...much to my financial detriment) and number two daughter about to launch in September, priorities are priorities. Having said that, it is a wonderful thing this thing called life and I am looking forward to a visit back to Vangroovie with my ass completely grass at the hands of Mistress Freyja. I place my faith rarely but willingly into the hands of competence. She's a very very good bet.
most respectfully,
eddie.
p.s.... HB40....thank you so much for the birthday wishes, i appreciate that. I tried to reply to your mail but it says your mailbox is full. What the fuck???? I get maybe one mail a month....you multiple mail bastard!
And so the visit began. Well, it began earlier but, that was a defining moment. I end up with five days off (all in a row) and so I decide I am going to visit my Vancouver based friend who is a natural born Domme (that is not apparent initially, that is my assessment after having spent three days with her)....and more interestingly, a highly intelligent and perceptive individual who is able and willing to let hints of her life shine through in conversation. I go to the visit as a friend but I know and she knows that I am a sub. But, the deal is that we will visit as friends and it works out better as we have clear expectations. I show up, she texts me that she is in the laundry room but will be down to open the door shortly. The weather is overcast but warm and her lair is two blocks from the water and two blocks from Stanley Park....excellent location. So, up we go, it's a cool building and she allows me inside to her home which is even cooler. It is well appointed, well equipped, and multifunctional. It is clean, clean, clean....the fixtures are high end....and the whole space is well decorated. Suffice it to say, I am impressed. As promised, there are beer waiting for me in the fridge and I crack the first one after 17 hours of bus travel. Gawd, why people would choose to travel over 4 hours by bus is beyond me, but they do. And, I did. In any event, the beer goes down well. I am slightly nervous, wait, not nervous, it is just the "first meeting" jitters, we have only exchanged emails to this point so the reality is now. And....my impression off the "now" is wow, cool chick this is. She is friendly, smiley, funny, and smart. We are chatting about this and that and, in the back of my mind, I am thinking....she's not that Domme and she just likes to enjoy things. Error number one. I meet her soon to be ex roommate who is moving out on her own within two days. They have a complicated relationship (who doesn't) but the roommate is very quietly intelligent and interesting to visit with. One beer becomes two, two becomes three, and so on. Somewhere after the third or fourth beer, the Mistress says "remove your pants and shorts". Out of the blue and a tossaway line in the conversation. Of course I do, it embarasses me but it thrills me all the same. I think to myself, she surely cannot be pleased with what she sees but logic tells me it matters not. We continue to chat. Also somewhere along that line, her slave/sub is between my knees and I get a blowjob from a good looking female slave. I don't recall how that all ended up happening, I can only guarantee it wasn't at my request so it must have been controlled by the Mistress. This is also the time where I end up saying "well, actually I am owned" and the instant reply in unison from them both is "Then WHAT are you doing here?" This launched into an explanation on my part of my current situation and how I do not FEEL owned as it has been going on for four months, she lives in the city, she has my number, I have hers, we know where one another live and....she has yet to permit a meeting. Frankly, I feel as though I might well be wasting my time. There is a discussion about this and I indicate that the owner is asking the right questions, providing enough latitude, keeping a firm hand as best she can from remote control....but....there is that overriding need and sense of missing the tactile and personal interaction of personal contact. Having just been chewed out over the phone for not completing some tasks, I am once again in a funky place. Do I wait for her? Logically, yes....emotionally, no. But, I digress. (Update on that situation, I am unowned, I came clean that I had gone off to Vangroovie to visit a domme type and that went down like a lead zeppelin....oh well, better to push the stick into the fire than to wonder if there is actually a fire).
Night one draws to a drunken and stuporous conclusion. I am hazy on details but I am permitted to join the Mistress and her slave in the big bed. I know well enough to keep my hands to myself and do so. Still, it was a wonderful way to conclude the first day and I was incredibly appreciative.
Which way is the Syliva??
The next day dawns....and we sleep....and slightly after mid day begin to wake. It is decided that we will help the roommate move her stuff and so the day is spent doing a bit of that (movers were hired so it wasn't a stretch)....it also is the sort of last day they will spend together as roomies and so I am thinking to myself....I should get the fuck out of here for a while so they can visit. I know Freyja's place is close to the Silvia and I recall a nifty little pub there....so I get directions (i.e. a finger pointing..."go that way dork") and walk the two blocks down to it. Thankfully, my sweater was left unmolested at this fine establishment. The beers go down nicely and the memories of my previous visits are good....sometimes baggage is enjoyable to sift through...sometimes not. This baggage was enjoyable. There is a delightful German couple with wierd shoes who become reasonable companions for that period.
You know what??? Fuck the details. All that matters is that I had one of the singularly most interesting experiences of my life. Miss Freyja is a delight, she's intelligent, she's perceptive, and she's flawed and admits so. I can think of no finer qualities in a fellow human being.
Will I repeat? If permitted, absolutely. I have opened another Go Visit Freyja Fund at the local bank but with the number one daughter proroguing her higher education (fixed!...much to my financial detriment) and number two daughter about to launch in September, priorities are priorities. Having said that, it is a wonderful thing this thing called life and I am looking forward to a visit back to Vangroovie with my ass completely grass at the hands of Mistress Freyja. I place my faith rarely but willingly into the hands of competence. She's a very very good bet.
most respectfully,
eddie.
p.s.... HB40....thank you so much for the birthday wishes, i appreciate that. I tried to reply to your mail but it says your mailbox is full. What the fuck???? I get maybe one mail a month....you multiple mail bastard!
