Fantastical Musings

July 8th, 2013

After creating a long involved fantasy for a couple week of bedtime stories, I began to wonder why I fantasize like I do. Why, in this particular case, the Me character was a brawler, a girl who could and would fight to defend herself. And why the He character forbid her from doing so, forbid others from fighting with her, and punished her for breaking his decree. I mean, some of it is obvious, I am turned on by the power exchange that such a decree and punishment entails. But why fighting? Even as a child, I’d imagine being trained by the TMNT.

It is, as most fantasies are, the desire to be other than I am. To be physically strong and dexterous and skilled at fighting. I played soccer fairly well, was terrible at baseball, barely passable at volleyball. I was an outdoorsy kid, but never very strong. I always lost wrestling matches. Fighting in grade school wasn’t much beyond kicking shins(to this day, I cannot fathom purposefully hitting a guy in the balls*), or shoving someone to the ground. We certainly didn’t get into fist fights. Then RA hit, and I felt even weaker, even more vulnerable. I was always intrigued by martial arts, but never enough to take classes for more than a month or two (Tai Chi lasted longer, but the study I did was not focused on practical use). So, I fantasize about being a girl who not only can fight, but is particularly good at it. Enough so, that to protect others, I am banned from and punished for fighting.

What about the other main fantasy? The naughty coed fantasies. Of course there’s the school girl aspect, and the spanking, but what about the character? The Me character is always very sexually forward. She is not shy about seducing the professor, telling him exactly what she wants, or exactly what she’ll do for him. For all that I’ve grown and learned in my sexual and kinky life, I am still quite shy about my sexual desires, and expressing them verbally. I still blush and mumble and drop my eyes. So, I fantasize about the girl who can look a man straight in the eyes and tell him that if he would put her over his knee and spank her, that she would gladly have sex with him, or she would kneel under his desk and blow him. She is not embarrassed by her sexuality.

Other fantasies are similar – seduction and the willingness to be seduced, not feeling hesitant or bashful. Slave girl has been trained and is confident and skilled. Kidnap/rape fantasies – not being given the choice, being forced to do whatever I’m told or suffer worse. Action and confidence instead of hesitation, shame, doubt, and inaction.

 

(*The guys were my friends, friends don’t kick other friends in the tender bits. I was scolded the other day, when asked how I would defend myself from a guy grabbing hold of me, and I refused to ball-tag him. My answer is stomp on the top of his foot, elbow to the gut, and skull against his face. I never learned the skill of hitting a guy in the crotch. Being around the kink community, I figure it’ll either piss him off more (especially if I don’t hit square on), or he’ll like it, so why bother?)

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What I Learned About Humiliation Play

February 7th, 2013

One of the first things they talked about was the different levels of humiliation play. You could play lightly with being shy, or a little harder into embarrassment, or harder still into shame, or further into degradation, or go all the way into objectification. Or you could run up and down the ladder in one scene. The first couple are about things you’re doing – shy about talking about sex, or embarrassed by being naked in public. In shame, you’re digging more into the person, the brain – feeling like a bad person for what you’re doing, or that you’re enjoying what you’re doing. Degradation is deeper tearing down of a person – being Told you’re a bad person, or a slut, or worthless. Then, you can get all the way to objectification – being treated like an object, with no rights, no voice, no humanity – you have become a piece of furniture, a thing to be used, or not worth using.

The next thing he talked about was how to create these scenes. How to find things you can humiliate a person about. Mostly here, he talked about conversations, and reading body language. If a person’s eyes dart away and back, or they blush or bite their lower lip. This could be something to play with. You can also tell what level of humiliation they are at by body language. When a person reaches shame, the eyes tend to stay down, and the body language turns away. Degradation and objectification lead to even more closed and small body language. He also talked about it being important, once you start down this road, to not let up or balk at the first sign of resistance. The bottom/sub generally wants a strong top/dom, not someone who is going to back down at the first argument or tear.

The third most important thing, in my opinion, that was discussed was reconciliation after the scene. You have to both recover from a humiliation scene, and it can be a lot more mentally taxing than other types of scenes. Some pretty horrible things can be said and felt. It is of utmost importance to remember that you love each other and that you played that way because you both enjoy it, and it gives you pleasure. You also have to figure out what kind of aftercare you require beyond these reminders. In the class, he said he has to leave her alone for 20-30 minutes because she reacts in anger, and has to come down from there on her own. For me, I need verbal reassurance and physical connection. Chocolate is never a bad idea either. 😉

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Fulfilling a Promise

August 18th, 2011

It has been a week. No, I’m not going to talk about details, but if you want to see reactions, take a look at my writing on Fetlife. Suffice it to say, I have a lot on my mind. Several of those things are fit to print. So there will be at least two, if not three posts made today, should time and brain power allow. The first will be the easiest and most amusing.

At the end of last year, I posted about Negotiation. I detailed a negotiation that really started our relationship with toy, and a scene that came out of it. Many months have passed, much life has happened, but we have never lost sight of that scene. Focus, yes, a few times. But that’s to be expected. The original agreed upon date came and went, due to out of state commitments. And things just kept not lining up, not to mention toy never could pin him down or negotiate a new time and place, due to a lot of factors.

However, a few weeks ago, he asked if we were ready. To perform and serve him this month. We agreed that a given Saturday was good for us all, and started practicing the song and dance again. Shortly thereafter, he poked toy about how much better this Friday would be than Saturday, given the venue and availability of our partner in crime and myself. So, it got changed to Friday. Tomorrow.

We’re ready. The night will be awesome, amazing and hilariously fun. I’m just a bit full of stage fright for the performance. I hope I keep breathing and don’t pass out. I think the dance will help with that part. Keep me moving and force me to breathe. And hey, he’ll be smiling, grinning and probably cackling with laughter. So will everyone else, I imagine. So it’ll be alright. Really, it will.

And of course, I’ll be making an after action post at some point, to share with you all, the highs and lows, the amusement, embarrassment, creativity, service, love, fun and torment of the evening. I can’t promise it this weekend, but next week at least. It is going to be Epic.

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Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby…

April 8th, 2010

Sex was never discussed in my house growing up. Mom never had “the talk” with me, I had it at school from a silly video. It was mentioned by her twice in my life. Once, when a friend of hers had been embarrassed when her 8 year old daughter told her not to have sex if she didn’t want more kids and described the act very poorly because I had misinformed her, being only 9 and just previous to the talk at school when she had asked Me about it. So Mom asked if I knew how it really worked now, and I said yes and that was that. The second time was when we were out buying flowers for my wedding and she wanted to know if I had any questions and to tell me the first time might not be great. I rolled my eyes and said Mom… in that tone most of us perfect as teenagers. My Dad never discussed sex when I was growing up, though as he’s gotten older he’s discussed a lack of sex due to the ineffectualness of Viagra… thanks, Dad.

I only dated one boy for one weekend in High School, and that was only a couple phone conversations, so I’d never even been kissed before I got to college. My first three boyfriends freshman year took me from kissing through oral sex at a not-too-fast pace. It was not until the summer after my sophomore year that I had sex for the first time. Subsequent first visit to OB/GYN for birth control was a godsend as far as period control. I am now nearing 30 and have had a total of 8 sexual partners, 9 if you count 3 seconds of penetration as a sexual partner, I generally don’t. Only 4 of which were/are continuous sexual relationships. I had a few STD tests a couple years ago at the request of a life insurance company and in the past couple weeks, my new doc ran a full panel for me, results still pending, but I’m not expecting any surprises. (That’s why they’re called surprises, eh?)

So that background is all well and good, but what am I really on about? One of my hard limits is sex in public. Public generally being defined as more than two other people(other than the one I’m having sex with) being present. I blush when talking about sex, avoid using sexual terms in public and even in private sometimes. I’ll swear like a sailor, but ask me to say cock or admit I’m thinking about oral and I’m suddenly shy and flustered. Sex, to me, is a private thing, but even more than that, it’s something I find it difficult to be forward about.

One, on the private matter of sex. It is a personal thing, a private thing. Sex, to me, is an expression of intimacy shared between two people, maybe three. It’s a special kind of energy and I don’t fancy the intrusion of other energy into the mix. The excitement of having sex somewhere inappropriate and public has its allure, but the thought of other people watching and the threat of being arrested most often kills it for me. That’s not to say I haven’t had sex in a public park at night, but only when those two factors have been reduced to almost nil.

He asked me to go without panties recently and it was a huge deal. Let my most private and intimate bits be exposed under my skirt? Proper girls just don’t do that(when the hell did I become proper again?). What if someone sees? What if someone grabs me randomly? What if I get pulled over? It took some very serious conversation for me to get past the fear and realize that I was in control of myself, my safety and my personal space. Not to mention, my friends would be around me to protect me should anything go wrong. It was a very freeing experience, and the edge of fear kept under control was wonderful.

Two, on not being sexually forward. Communication is key. I’ve learned, though my journey in kink, that I have to ask for what I want, be clear about what I want and to accept what I want without being ashamed or embarrassed by it. Why hasn’t this transferred to sex as well? I looked back at my posts, even my erotica, I only mention fucking once at the very end. I don’t write overt sex scenes very often and it is even rarer that I share those that I do. I could blame my parents, I could blame my sheltered early life, I could blame being an introvert and generally shy, I could blame a Puritan society. Excuses, excuses, excuses. These are excuses I have let run my sex life.

How do I stop that? How do I let go of fear and embarrassment? Why am I afraid? What am I afraid of? Rejection? Do I think that if I suggest sex or oral or say I’m thinking about your cock, he’s going to say “No, how could you? What kind of girl are you?” How ridiculous is that? Seriously, I can asked to be beat, set on fire, tied up and swung from the rafters, and yet sex, that pretty much everyone on the planet has, trips me up. How silly and neurotic is that? Talking about sex is my Boggart in the closet (yes, a Harry Potter reference). Laugh at the fear to make it go away.

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