A multimedia conceptual art project on my Beast with personal handwritten monthly letters, cards and transcripts. 
As an artist, I wanted to examine and document the Dominant and submissive sexual roles on a far deeper level than what may be seen in sensational news tabloids, popular culture and western society.
This performative work process took place over four years of regular hour-long BDSM roleplay sessions, cultivating a balanced, trusting submissive/dominant relationship, incorporating these concepts into his personal and working life without shame and guilt for his sexual identity, giving him a sense of balance and fulfilment in his life.
I decided to dive into an in-depth research as to where it all started for him. A task which would help him to help himself, to have some clarity and shed some light into the subconscious mind of a man who was formally sexually oppressed, suppressed and ill-informed in western society. We delved into why he held these emotions of sexual frustration, embroiled in embarrassment, emptiness, oddity and self-sabotage. 
Earlier on this year as part of this holistic, therapeutic approach, we agreed that by getting these thoughts out of his head and onto paper, specifically utilising the media of handwritten letters. 
Without a doubt, he writes his longing and urges lead him into his first encounter with domination. Roaming around nitty, gritty, Soho London's red telephone boxes, in the mid 90's, looking for calling cards, amateur photography and amateur model's bearing a close enough resemblance to the image of the Dominatrix that he had conjured up in his thoughts. With the invention of the internet and it's easy assessability, the cards in the phone boxes made way for contact and discussion via email, which opened locked doors for him, and lead him to seek out his female dominant. 
His introspective desires may have initially been driven by base feelings of a sexual craving, but as much time passed and our journey began and developed, he discovered the therapeutic nature and associated benefits that a skilled practitioner of these arts can bring into the life of a willing and obedient subject. 
This is how the story of Beauty and the Beast begins.

Looking out to the grey, grey sky,
Stared a grey grey man
This grey grey man 
stood in a grey, grey room
In this grim grey, grey room,
Lay a grey, grey suit staring back.

Tackling his grey grey suit, thumbed the grey grey man.
A suit made of polyester matched his wirey grey, grey hair
The same grey, grey hair that covered his entire body.
Old and grey, grey and old, reflected back from the dusty mirror.
"O' what a grey day, o' what a grey day" he whimpers...

A shard of light flickers on and off, on and off in the grey, grey room
Turning towards the light, he walks to the silver but also grey, grey device
With a quick swipe left and right, left and right the grey grey man, smiles
Eyes wide, twinkling. A surge of deep energy flows through this grey grey man and the hairs at the back of his nape enlight.
Finally the grey, grey clouds are lifted from the beastly man and he shines ever-so bright
Goose bumps and a heavy heart goes tumpty- tump, at the sight of something exotic. O' what delight...

Beasts’ first sighting
 of Beauty.

Now read the tale of a grey grey man who transformed into a beast.
"Beast Chronicles" with added transcripts.
Transcript: Beast Chronicle Part 1 - 
Letter A4 lined paper/ blue side margin/ four punched holes/silver staple on far left upper corner and black ballpoint pen.

Dear Beauty

You have used the word journey and what an amazing one it has been for me. It has definitely not ended, we are just pausing for breath. I will be back at your feet, ready to serve. My true vocation in life. I cannot begin to imagine the physical and mental trauma you are going through with your knee. What I will do, is try and help you over this difficult time in any small way I can. You are not just an endorphin rush provider, but a special person who I absolutely adore. You have greatly enhanced my understanding of life in many different ways.

I am going back pre beast to put some things into context. I think you know, an old girlfriend introduced me to BDSM. We however split up before I really got to explore it in any depth. These were pre internet days and I am trying to recall things that are a bit lost in the mists of time.

Now I am not sure what came first, but there was a documentary on mainstream television about Pandora's Box in New York. I remember a couple of people at work were really shocked, but I thought how cool and fascinating!

There was a guy tied up, with nipple clamps on and the mistress was whipping them and telling him if he was a good boy he could kiss her amazing legs. Now this memory was stored away and has just surfaced as I am thinking about what yo write. This documentary was a treasure trove of information and I will come back to this.

The next step down my BDSM road was to visit a mistress in West London with a fully equipped dungeon. Details were off one of the cards left in a red phone box. Not even sure if there was a picture. Think the visit was before the documentary.

To be continued.

Beast xx
Transcript: Beast Chronicle Part 2 -
Letter A4 lined paper/ blue side margin/ four punched holes/silver staple on far left upper corner/ four punched holes and black ballpoint pen.

Dear Beauty

So my first dungeon visit. Booked a few days in advance. Think she called herself a madam. Was extremely amused that I phoned her early morning to make sure she had not forgotten our appointment.

So early evening I journeyed to Knightsbridge way. Very excited and stressed at the same time. Do I, don't I, back out at the last minute thoughts. Find the basement flat and knock on the door.

The madam is mature, blond hair and dressed head to toe in leather ( dress not really my cup of tea ). " You are an excited young man. First time. Wonderful " she says.

Lead to an extremely well equipped room. Physically very light, but tried to frighten me psychologically ( what was going to happen ). In the end, tied to a whipping bench and just given a few strokes of the cane. Made to self gratify.

Next day, glad I visited, but not in a particularly happy place. Now let's go back a bit and overview this. Had drifted into my 30's. Probably the darkest period of my life. Had started work at 16 straight from school into a clearing Bank in the provinces. Early thoughts. How very unhappy the middle aged workers seemed to be and the huge amount of people having affairs. Didn't really fit in with my value system. Plenty of bullying of junior staff. Didn't make any close friends.

After maybe 4 years moved to their St Albans branch. Some really happy carefree times. Lots of younger people there, big social scene. They seemed to take a shine to me. Even had a nickname, which some people still use to this day. Life was just one big party. Friday night in Hatfield ( local ), Saturday night bus over to St Albans to meet with the work crowd. Sunday night to the Oak Tavern in Welwyn Garden City ( really good soul D.J. ). All my groups of friends were white.

Transcript: Beast Chronicle part 2(a) -
Letter A4 lined paper/ blue side margin/ four punched holes/silver staple on far left upper corner/ four punched holes and black ballpoint pen.

St Albans to meet with the work crowd. Sunday night to the Oak Tavern in Welwyn Garden City ( really good soul D.J. ). All my groups of friends were white. So I had strong hedonistic tendencies. Not thinking about the future. Experience driven rather than craving for material things. No interest in power and manipulating people.

Half hearted attempt at Banking exams. These were very time consuming. Not really difficult. Just an endurance test, which meant most people didn't complete them. I did work hard in the office and expected recognition for this eventually. Was dating, but again half heartedly. More interested in a lads holiday in Ibiza. Who to go with? Work friends or hometown boys.

Was brought up in a tower block in Chalk Farm. Chav and proud. Born in 1962. No dad. Really brave thing for mum to have kept me. She worked as a typist at County Hall ( where the London Aquarium is now ) and gran looked after me. Down to school in Camden. A bit different in those days. Mum met an I.T guy at work and we moved out to Hatfield when I was about six in 1968. My half sister was born later that year! He He.

My relationship with my step dad was not so good. Not exactly a father figure. He drove to work in London, home late evening, food around the table together and then he would lay on the sofa and go to sleep. Funny, a girl at work told me her dad did the same. We decided surely there must be more to life than that.
To be continued.
Transcript: Beast Chronicle Part 3 & (3a) - 
Letter A4 lined paper/ blue side margin/ four punched holes/silver staple on far left upper corner and black ballpoint pen.

Dear Beauty

So let us dip our toes or maybe our whole body back into BDSM. Next step Baker Street. Think I mumbled ' I want a good caning ' when I made the call. So the mistress is maybe 30 ish from memory. Friendly girl next door type of attitude. Think the room was small, made no lasting impression. I am strapped to a cross facing the wall and she proceeded to use all sorts of implements on me.

A discussion on which I preferred as we went through them. Was not keen on the dull thud like implements such as the paddle. Favourite was the thin cane that made a swish in the air before impact. You can hear it coming. Then the pain and the sting.

She came from Nottingham. Strange the things I remember. Just rented the premises for a few days at a time. I said yo her, I did not really understand why I was doing this, but she couldn't really give me any insight. Next day my bum was black and blue with some nice welts. I am strangely proud of the colour.

Now on Saturday mornings I use to go to the Asian shop over the road and buy a newspaper. These are on the bottom shelf, but more interestingly is the top shelf with plenty of girlie literature and some small contact magazines.

Now this shop is busy. No way are you going to stretch and have a sneaky peep. Thought about it for ages. So one morning I grab my newspaper and in one fluid movement take the contact magazine and put it in the middle and fold. To the counter to pay and whisper to Mrs Patel there are two items. She gleefully whips the magazine out in public view and shouts to her husband, ' how much is this ? '. I am mortified. Why not add dirty little pervert for maximum effect ?

Having survived the humiliation, this magazine is a treasure trove. Maybe 50 images of mistresses throughout the UK. Some are not great quality, but a definite step up from telephone cards. There must have been a word limit because each ad had about two lines.

Decisions, decisions. Can't really visit them all. The lady with the Nazi armband offering extreme pain. Think I will give her a miss. Now who did I choose?

To  be continued.

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