I'd like to devote this true tale only to those searching for their one special slave or Master. If, by chance, you happen to be a content, unattached player in the Lifestyle, I will not begrudge you your happiness. But this dedication is not for you. You are no doubt blissfully unaware of the heartaches and melancholy that afflict us, the incurable romantics. Perhaps you have already seen us (a pathetic lot to be sure), alone in the midst of a crowded place, our eyes reflecting a blank look of boredom and despair. But we were watching you too, you know. We were all too aware of your transitory gaze, how it lingered for only a moment, moving on in search of happier, more attractive prospects. We can't blame you, really. But did you know that beneath our stares of yearning and sadness beat hearts full of hope and tenacity? The next time you spy one of us, pay close attention…we will linger in our own spot until the very last moment… waiting for fate to intervene. We will never give up our quest. I used to be one of these wandering, aching souls myself…and this is MY story of deliverance.

I am a Dominant male, defined as such by my own standards, but inspired by the ones who came before me. Without the love of a submissive soul mate, I have always been half the man I wanted to be. To some, that statement might disqualify me from the company of other male sadists. Should I be more in control of my needy emotions, that I might be immune to them? Perhaps you might agree. But let me share with you the knowledge that comes with time, my friend…as a man ages, he becomes more aware of who he is, what he wants, and what he needs. Eventually, my existence would become incidental to finding "her", and I would not stop searching until that glorious day.

For a year and a half after a difficult divorce, I searched in every corner for my unrequited love. I haunted the dilapidated pubs and single scenes of a foreign, hostile town. In this pathetic place friendships were fickle and fleeting, and much like me, hope was just another unwelcome stranger. No matter where I stood, I felt conspicuous in my isolation. In the clubs I could be found leaning against Budweiser posters of bleached and browned bimbos, while I peeled the labels off warm beer bottles. No matter…no one was looking to find me anyway. At home, I would stare back at my Gateway's big blue eye, answering a multitude of pining personal ads. I fumbled with words, pursuing the elusive voice for my proclivity and desire. But there could be no guideposts without responses. Those few that did answer received the full measure of my attention, but two or three messages later these ended with polite excuses. More often nothing was said at all. I cultivated vanilla relationships wherever they appeared, tending to them like flowering gardens of hope. I read erotica out loud to pretty women, infiltrated my kink carefully with veiled innuendo and tried very, very hard to enjoy passionless, uninspired sex.

As I trekked over a landscape of disappointments, I began to cultivate my own despair. I used it as armor of righteous indignation. Yet, I also knew how dangerous it was to wallow in self-pity, so I armed myself with knowledge wherever and whenever I could. I met real Masters and slaves, who helped me to shape my idea of who I wanted to be, and I tried to imagine who I was looking for. For the first time in my life, I realized that my dream could in fact, come to life in the context of a loving, consensual, relationship. I became more and more practiced at telling my story.

My ambition was to be a loving, skillful, and strict Dominant. I wanted to make my girl wet with a look, moan with a touch, or melt with the right phrase. So, I unearthed the power of words. I wanted to play my woman's body with the instruments of my profession….the rope, cuff and flogger. So, I practiced carefully with a handful of friendly, willing submissives. I wanted to show my girl love and affection the likes of which she had never known, so I reconciled the adoring man with the strict sadist. I ignored my peers who commanded subbies online with orders like "On your knees bitch!" Instead, I offered to "walk with them along a path of learned self discovery, and fantasy fulfillment". I flaunted the accepted convention, found my own voice to represent me, and delivered words with the aire of a sadistic gentleman. Occasionally responses would trickle in, but it was still hard to know if I was on the right track. There was nothing else to do but stick to a formula that was practiced, polished and above all, honest.

December 1999 brought with it a holiday season on the cusp of the new century, and with it my most difficult in memory. I cannot remember hearing from friends or family on Christmas Day, but I do recall feelings of bitterness that stung as hard as the frosty wind outside. My most vivid memory was feeling that life without my soulmate was no life at all. Fortunately it was a temporary thought, and it passed together with a dull, eventless Millennium Day.

Looking back on this sad time in my life, I understand how every effort, heartbreak and failure was preparing me for embre's arrival. I can see today that it is NOT enough to be skilled with phrases or floggers. More important than anything was earning the right to own another human being, to appreciate her for the gift that she was, when two years ago I might not have. ember and I reflected on this fact only recently, huddled together, embers face buried in my chest, her joyous tears drying after a brutal act of sodomy. "I don't think we would have been ready for one another two years ago" she observed with wisdom remarkable for her youth. "If we had met right after divorce, we would have thought it was all to easy...we would have been too picky about moving, the distance and limits. We would have just kept looking."

And there was the beautiful truth in it all…that every disappointment and every frustration was a preparation, a right of passage for a budding Master and his slave. And during this quest, a shadowy image of my girl had formed, then snapped into focus when her image came across the Gateway screen for the first time…January 10th 2001. On this day, another yearning soul sent out her own SOS, and I was the first to see it. I answered without delay, and she responded in kind. And one day later…scarcely 10 days after the saddest New Year of my life, I checked out of the personal ad sites and never, ever looked back.

Many days have passed since then, and as they do the difficult memories fade into obscurity. New memories of excitement, joyous discovery and exceeded expectations have replaced them. Every heartache and humiliation has been justified a thousand fold. Since that happy day, I have been looking for an opportunity, dear reader, to share my experience with you…to detail my experience as a story of encouragement, and to offer my advice on how to make your own dreams come true.

First, you must find as many different ways you can think of to meet people. Make up a business card with your name and number, together with your favorite quote. Offer it to that "tasty treat" you saw at the restaurant and say "Hi, I'm_____, and I'd love to get together with you sometime". Have you answered at least one personal ad today? Don't gloss over the one that said "curvy", or "learning" or "not bisexual". Given time and patience, yesterday's hard limit could be tomorrow's fetish. Have you dared to venture into the realm of BDSM chat? If so, don't expect to find many submissives looking for a real time Dom. But they ARE out there, and they are looking for refreshing, intelligent conversation, as well as some good old-fashioned manners and honesty.