Dear Journal,
Why did I come back to Philly?
I wish the Pennsylvania coven we were friendly with had just minded their own business instead of meddling with my life. Then again, for a shot at happiness . . . I suppose my decision was justified.
One of the women Steve tried to set me up with—Melissa—had called me a week prior to my visit with some interesting information. She told me that she was friendly with some human women who were Dommes . . . and that she had subbed for one or two members of the Philadelphia BDSM community. I was shocked at her confession, but not completely taken aback. Of the two sisters, Melissa was the most like me—the most submissive. She told me that nobody had a problem with her “peculiar skin” and that there was a chance for some of the Dommes there to do a trial with me.
I was elated.
This was the first real lead I ever had. Perhaps I wouldn’t be judged, or rejected. I had to find out.
I went to a social with Melissa, and hoped for the best. I made a few contacts with several Dommes, but one in particular showed great interest in me. She was a brunette who called herself simply “Mizz” and took me home that night.
Things did not go well. I had excellent restraint and command over my strength, so breaking out of shackles or ropes had never been a problem, but there was one thing that simply wouldn’t work.
As soon as I heard her say the word plug, I knew I was done for. That simply was not going to go there. Physically impossible.
But despite her thirty or so minutes of frustration, she said she would keep me around for something else. I figured that anything could be better than that . . .
So she kept me as her “pretty.” For a few weeks, I’d show up at her house, and she’d just have me stand around and look good. Or she’d dress me up . . . or not at all. Sometimes she’d take me to parties where she would show me off. That was it. Apparently I was good for looks alone. And while I enjoyed the idea of what we were doing, there really wasn’t much else to it. Nothing physical whatsoever, aside from the fact that she sexually assaulted me with her eyes on a daily basis.
After that, I was pretty much attending parties for the chance at an hour or so of play. I’d try to do a scene with some of the other Dommes there that knew Melissa, but the most I ever got accomplished was a little awkward groping or an unsuccessful flogging. It was miserable, being so close to what I wanted and still dealing with rejection. I thanked Melissa for her effort, and was home within a month.
Maybe I need to give up.
William
And then, like a jolt of electricity, a memory shocked and paralyzed my body momentarily. Something Erin said . . . about her friends in Philly. He was a BDSM urban legend down there . . . so this was true. Then again, there was no mention of being an actual vampire, so I didn’t really know what to think. He did use the word coven, and that was pretty creepy.
Um, and don’t forget the fact that he moved an entire room of furniture in one minute, coupled with the fact that everything about him screams “different,” my consciousness taunted me.
Oh well, moving on. I read some more entries that had some family-centered themes, but there was nothing I was really looking for. Nothing of note until relatively recently, when I saw Portsmouth mentioned, so my attention snapped back into place.
February 26, 2012
Dear Journal,
I had always considered this quest for satisfaction to be an act of hunting, but never did I think I would become the hunted. Too bad I wounded the hunter.
Women approach me all the time—this isn’t something new. I just read their body language and instantly make my decision: no. I have to actively look for the type of woman I need, and just because a woman is bold enough to approach me, that doesn’t mean she’s a Domme. And I just can’t imagine sleeping with a woman on equal terms—it’s just not my sexual preference to be on equal footing.