Bi-Polar Dual Citizenship
(In search of my second passport)
For years, my escape vehicle was as an alpha-male sub. My antithesis in real life. I have always pursued the joyous challenges of my life like a zealot…Banzai! Geronimo!
As a sub, I found escape, an alias, and a sort of anonymity. I took pride in my ability to perform as told by my Mistress of the moment. To personify excellence in my subservience, to know a quiet humility that provided me with the opportunity to perform, part actor, part impostor, full-time fellow traveler of this occult side.
A Ronin Samurai paid in pearls by swine, feeding on Pain and Subjugation, strengthened by their ministrations.
As a sub, I eventually learned to draw down the Dom’s energy in a way that empowered me, gave me strength, and renewed me, no matter how exhausted I felt at climax, during the afterglow, as the vessel, the recipient, I was awash in their waves of passion and lust as I took on power, nestled in my charging station.
I became a vampire that feasted on energy and power instead of blood, the Judas Goat that tamed the Wolf, the Fawn that lead the Hunter into the snare.
It was a delicious symbiosis in which no animals were harmed in the performance of our perversions. The Doms sought their vessels in which to release their passions and power. I became a lightning rod seeking their dissipations. The capacitor of their current.
It was good, but it was not everything. I desired to become an Actor, instead of a participant, an Angel with newly-acquired wings to soar to even greater heights. I sought to achieve escape velocity sufficient to break the bonds of gravity and free-fall in orbit high above the earth.
I was ready to be the Conductor of an orchestration of my own visions. The Conductor on the three-hundred mile-per hour train. Or the Engineer. Or the passenger. Maybe even the Architect.
I would be the painter, and they would be my canvasses, blending the hues and pigments of our collective imaginations to produce a work of art that was beautiful to behold, a joyful noise to which we listened, as they became our anthems, while we danced across a stage of our own construction. The Director of this continuously-running play that is my life.
Sometimes I am the Actor; sometimes the Director, sometimes the stage or the props, sometimes the Audience in these performances. Sometimes they are my visions; sometimes they are the visions of others, and all of it is a part of me.
I am the Archer, the Bow, the Arrow, the Apple, the Assistant, and the audience, each according to my own momentary Dharma.
We can set fire to the first floor of the house and dance the Apocalypso on the roof, not caring if the fire department ever gets there, ready to jump into the conflagration we set ablaze with our passions and lusts, drunk on the possibilities, oblivious of the consequences, all the while enjoying the view.
Or we can stand hand-in-hand on the edge of the volcano.
Dance, jump, or become the Volcano.
I can top your bottom, or serve at the pleasure of your commands.
I have the coin, would you prefer to toss or call?
dreamlanddancing 