Ryan is recovering in the hospital. He wished his dear friends know he is not ignoring you but is unable to respond to you for a while.

Michael has been taking wonderful care of him but there does come a time when professional care is needed. His breathing difficulties seem to return each year with the cold weather.

Thank you all,
Ms X (That is a ridiculous name but I shall keep it for now. At least you know who I am.)

Isn't it wonderful when you spend an hour writing a long post and your computer connection goes on the wonk at the precise moment you pressed the publish button?

I have searched and find that I don't even have a draft of the post.  Unless I am looking in the wrong place altogether all that I had written is lost.

All I truly said was:

I am still ill. My doctor wished to admit me to hospital, which I refused. Instead I am having a private nurse come in and help care for me at home. I'm finding myself horribly regressed in the area of service to a Domme. 

I suppose thinking for myself for over a year has nearly ruined me.

I shall simply have to try harder and start from scratch again. 

Ryan

I would like to inform those who correspond with me via email of my new address. 

You may send any further emails to:  crbarringtongray@yahoo.co.uk

Also I find it my duty to inform you all that the lovely Writer Friend that I had spoken of in a previous entry has kindly agreed to accept my submissive service to Her.  All of this is still in the formative stage at present but I am being allowed to refer to Her as my Mistress and guidelines are being set.

Before any of my dear friends here in blogland take mind to worry, I want all of you to know that I have known this woman for a number of years and She has been a truly great blessing to my life, especially in the past twelve months.

I hasten to add that this does not mean that Michael and I are not together.  We are still each other's reality.  This service to 'Ms X'  is in almost every way imaginable different to my r/t service to Victoria.  Michael and I love one another very much but each of us still finds need to have a woman in our lives.  My new Mistress is also quite close to Michael and we both trust Her completely.

Because of the nature of this alliance, myself submitting to 'Ms X', She will from now on have privileged access to my facebook and blog accounts as well as my new email account.  She has no objections to my conversing with friends either female or male but will be privy to the contents of any emails if She feels it is necessary.

I do hope you all will understand.  Her overseeing my accounts is not meant to be an invasion of  anyone's privacy but rather practical proof of Her willingness to come alongside me and teach me by example how to submit in a healthy D/s relationship.

I do so enjoy being here on the blog site and having so many of you as friends.  I hope this will not dampen that at all.

With Great Affection,
Ryan  

He left his clothes on the bed,  hoping perhaps I will sort them.  But to sweeten the mix he has also left a small gift. 

I am almost certain this is more for him and his boy than for me.  The fact that he gave it to me already opened and that young Michael's face still bears a trace of chocolate in the creases of his lips gives that much away.

None the less please feel you may partake from this tin at your leisure.  Heaven knows I cannot ingest it all!

Ryan

Looks as though the bad weather is finally here.  Lashing rain, wind, but nothing excited like perhaps thunder and lightening.

I remember a few storms like that when I was a boy.  I remember wanting to watch all that electricity in the sky only to hear Mum say to come away from the window as it wasn't safe.

I still enjoy that sort of thing in the middle of the night.  All the flashes of light and the sonic sounding booms.  Michael says it happens quite a lot in Miami.  Would be lovely if it did here as well. 

::Snuggling further under my duvet:: 

Michael is coming in and offering me his Nintendo DS.  I've declined the offer but he's sat here with me playing himself.

I may try to sleep.  I am a bit weary.

Body Temperature is: 39C

Ryan

Yes, I suppose one could reasonably say that my Respiratory ailments are very nearly like clockwork, or at least timely on a yearly basis. 

I've been to the surgery, been given the same instructions (fluids and rest) and the same medications to treat the same wheezing breath, congested lungs and coughing fits.  I'm sequestered to a bedroom without telly, but I've books, a computer and a radio as well.  Jolly good isn't it?

I'm not moaning.  If it seems so it's likely only a product of my personal fear that I may end up in hospital again.  I suppose I'm a bit grumpy as well because I'm not keen on having to burden those around me.

Here you may see my view today.  A dark room on a rainy day, Dickens by my side, Computer in my lap, medicines on the nightstand (doesn't appear in picture) and Michael's clothes on the floor (also not in the photograph thankfully).

        

I would have captured my mother or Michael on the way in with a tray of little nibbles (mostly savoury biscuits and broth) but both objected to being photographed.  At least they don't look dishevelled.  I dare not show my face here.  You all would die of fright. 

Must find something to do.  I have tried to sleep but cannot rest for trying to breathe!  Dear heavens, what can be done for this?

Waiting... that is what is required.  Obeying the Doctor's orders and waiting to improve.  

Any suggestions for entertainment?   

Today is a day for remembering. Traditionally as it is Remembrance Day, the 11th day of the 11th month, we bring to the forefront of our minds those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for home and hearth, for love of their country and the freedom it affords them. I am thankful, as are many others, on this day and every day for my blessings, bought at great price by those who fought the good fight.

A bit more selfishly I have had occasion to remember some of my own personal past via the fictional writing of a very dear Dominant Woman I am fortunate enough to call my Friend and Confidant. She is extremely gifted and has begun writing a piece loosely based (structurally) on some of my real life experiences. Reading a few paragraphs of Her offering today I see small similarities mainly in protocol, but the differences are tremendous. In Her account it is plain that the Dominant values and loves Her alpha submissive.

After being away from the estate for a significant amount of time I am now able to look back with more clarity and objectivity on my experiences there. I have spent many an hour in the cyber company of my dear Writer Friend and She has lovingly shown me where Victoria's methods crossed over into cruelty and literal physical and mental abuse. I am hugely indebted to this lovely Woman for opening my eyes and believing that over time my denial and defence of Victoria and Her ways would eventually yield to the truth.

When I was living on the estate, fully immersed in Victoria's doctines, I counted it an honour to suffer if it pleased Her, no matter how it may have scarred me bodily or emotionally. I very literally believed myself to be Her property in all manner of speaking. To give Her glory and praise and in order to please Her, it was my duty and privilege to suffer whatever sadistic cruelty She or my superiour sub brothers dealt me. I did not have rights, and in the midst of this way of living I did not wish any. I suffered in silence and if I needed to cry I did so alone. It is fair to say that I lived for Her much in the manner a devoted slave of religious fervour lives to please his chosen diety.

My Dominant Friend, as well as Michael himself, have worked quite hard to 'deprogramme' me over the past 18 months or so. At least now it is easier for me to admit that what went on in Victoria's secret world wasn't truly right, nor acceptable. It wasn't safe or sane even if it was consensual. Yes, I agreed to it, by word, deed, and in writing, and I lived in complete submission to Her will for eight of my nearly 29 years. It was an experience very out of the mainstream and perhaps over time I will not see it, not as a mistake, but more as a learning experience.

How have I changed, you may ask?

Although I am still a bit nervous in crowds and in particular when in the presence of women, I am slightly more confident in my own personal worth. I suppose it is also fair to say that I am a bit more outspoken, certainly more than I was in the last years of my time in service.

Michael and I share a home and live relatively peacefully but if I am crossed by him I will have my say and be firm when giving voice to my convictions. I am no longer managing a huge household, and I do miss that a bit, but I pride myself on caring for our home and garden and taking care of young Michael. I still take on a limited number of students to tutor in music.

Gradually I am finding my way to what most of you consider normality.

I am still very fascinated and yes, aroused, by thoughts of service to a Domme; but only to a loving One who would enjoy the pleasures I would offer in worshipping Her. To a true Lady who would allow me the honour of knowing Her heart and bowing to it with the full knowledge that I could lay my trust there... because... of Her love for me.

Ryan

For some unknown reason the subject of circumcision oft arises in our household.

Perhaps it is because we are a trinity of males under one roof, and two of us are sat on one side of the fence regarding this issue whilst one is on the other.

I am "uncut", having been born in the UK and not being of Jewish descent. To the very best of my knowledge most infant males born here are not circumcised.

Michael was born in the US where apparently circumcising male babies is as common as cutting the umbilical cord, so thus he is "cut".

Young Michael was left intact per Ms V's instruction at birth and thankfully Michael has done nothing to change his son's circumstance.

From time to time the topic has come up, and perhaps now because young Michael is being introduced to the toilet, Michael Sr. is rehashing his concerns.

He struggles with opposing convictions when it comes to the state of young Michael's member. He is concerned that young Michael will feel different as he is not like his father in appearance. I have tried to ease his mind by saying that when young Michael is amongst his peers at the urinal or in showers after gym if he dares to glance about he will see he is not a minority. Is it not better that he be like myself and the majority of the population here where he will be brought up?

He usually agrees with me after my words of wisdom and his mind is temporarily set to rest, but not completely.

The next topic of conversation is related and completely predictable. He will launch into it with this, or a very similar, sentence.

"Well, at least Mikey still has a foreskin to shed or not. I never got a say in whether I wanted to keep mine or not."

I've heard of "penis envy", but Michael has very clear case of "foreskin envy". He developed this when first we had occasion to be unclothed before each other whilst we were in servitude to Victoria. He'd apparently never seen anyone still in firm possession of their complete instrument.

At every opportunity his gaze fell upon my manhood. It was a very fixed gaze for a staunchly sworn heterosexual.

I do once remember saying to him, "Would you like to examine it more closely?" At which point he blushed furiously and threatened to bodily assault me if I attempted any more of that "homo stuff" on him. Oh my!

Whenever I want to lighten the mood or have a bit of a chuckle I remind him of those early days. How things have changed.

In any case I feel young Michael should stay as he is phallically speaking. I have explained to Michael that his son will fit in perfectly with the other males here as they are intact as well.

With a cheeky grin on my face I suggest that perhaps he could tell young Michael that he suffered the loss of his foreskin in a terrible accident. I tell him I have every belief that he can come up with an interesting story that will not frighten the boy too badly.

He usually looks at me with that smug, sour expression and says, "Oh you're so funny. Not!"

Does anyone have a comment to make with regard to your own feelings on this subject? I'd be interested to hear your views.

Ryan

I apologise for letting my meandering thoughts rule the day in my earlier post.

Ryan

For several weeks now, Michael, young Michael and myself have been living in our new house.

Closing took several months due to the chain, and solicitor delays, but at long last we have formally taken the place on. I have been busy each week doing something to further establish this residence as our home, whether that be to paint, garden, or decorate with my own personal flourish.

Michael seems content to leave this to me alone. When he returns home from work I oft feel I have to work quite diligently to draw his interest to such as regards the appearance of our "new digs" as he calls it. He claims he hasn't a feminine side, nor any flair for personalisation. He is happy enough to have tea on the table when he comes home, a short run a bit later, a shower when arriving back from his exertions, and a warm, freshly made bed with a high tog duvet in which to take his rest.

Despite the occupation of late, I've been feeling a bit philosophical and somewhat anxious as well.

Truer words were never spoken than these: Time waits for no man.

It is continual, relentless, and can make ruthless demands. Every moment must count for something. All the while we are seeking our purpose, our reason for living. Although I am content with my life at present I am still haunted by the persistant feeling that something is missing. Perhaps there's something I have not done that I should give my attention to?

Perhaps I've had too much time to think. Apart from giving music tuition and caring for the home I have a great amount of time to ponder things... to reflect on my experiences to date and question my life's decisions of the past, present and future.

I have begun to consider the possibility of one day being a father again. I feel oddly uncomfortable sharing that information here but it is on my mind. I observe Michael and his son and it makes me mindful of Celestia and what she might have been like now had she lived. She would have been over two years old now. How lovely it would be to take her to the park instead of placing flowers on her marker.

Ah, well I am perhaps thinking too much, writing my heart. Enough of my talk...

I cry your pardon, my friends.

Ryan