The Amish strap

In my part of the world today is Mother’s Day. Earlier today, I was thinking about the birth of my youngest child, my final experience at giving birth. It was a pregnancy I had not planned, and not sure that pregnancy was right for me or my family, I went and had some counselling. They knew I already had healthy children, that I was soon to live in another country, and that the pregnancy was not planned. They advised me to terminate.

I was truly shocked that someone could give me such advice. They barely knew me. How could they possibly know what was right for me? Not long after this session, a dear friend invited me to a Christmas lunch with her other friends. They were an interesting bunch of women and her club was so beautiful, surrounded by winter snow. But, I didn’t know them and the baby I carried was my secret.

They began to talk of a woman they knew. She was having a baby and at her age! My age! They seemed supportive of her decision. They didn’t think her silly, but rather they were impressed that she could face the challenge so positively. That was all I needed. The little baby boy inside me was here to stay.

That little baby boy is growing up to be a most impressive young man. He’s smart and able, a deep thinker, a good writer and speaker, and most importantly, a caring and loving child who has blessed my life.

Now for the kinky bit! Several weeks before this Christmas lunch,we went to Pennsylvania.I had always wanted to see the Amish people. I didn’t know why they fascinated me so, but I arranged a weekend away at a farm right beside farmland of theirs. I loved getting sight of them in their buggies or better yet, working the land. I can still see in my mind’s eye, a young man and woman working the land, side by side, and just feeling really warm about them. It is something about their ability to live a simple but meaningful life which really resonates with me. On the Saturday afternoon, we took a tour of a typical Amish house. Every aspect of their life touched something deep inside of me. As the guide spoke about them, I could feel deep longings resonating in me.

I vaguely remember leaving the kitchen through a little ante room. My husband and I were towards the back of the group and he had me stop and turn around. There, on hooks, were straps clearly intended for the bottoms of misbehaving children (and wives?). It was almost too much. I only looked for a moment before I turned away. I didn’t dare to express to my husband, or to myself, how incredibly turned on I was.

That evening, I practically raped my husband. I have forgotten, but I suppose I was not using contraception at the time. My needs overtook my brain. The practices of the Amish had me throwing all caution to the wind.

When I look at my darling little boy, who is a gem, I often think about the Amish people; some core understanding they have of maleness and femaleness we others often miss. My ‘coming out’ as a submissive woman occurred several years after that visit. However, I do think that without that visit to the Amish country, it may never have happened. To this day, I feel a deep sense of admiration for the way they go about their lives. Personally speaking, I can't thank them enough.

A happy mother’s day to any readers in this part of the world!